Son of Men
by jagwriter78
Summary: "When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down." - This multi-chapter fic is set after the second half of season 3 and takes an alternate route of what has happened on screen. - COMPLETED 11/29
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 1  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This was written for last year's Fringe Mini Bang over at Livejournal. I started this about halfway through season 3, so this will completely ignore everything that has happened starting roughly at about episode 3x14 "6B". You will also have to bear with me a little as this is a multi-chapter fic that I intend to update at least once a week, most probably twice a week if RL permits.

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><p>.<p>

If there was one thing Olivia Dunham still wondered about when it came to Peter Bishop, it was his strange fascination for Humphrey Bogart. She had never pictured him to be the movie watching guy, let alone black and white movies from the thirties and forties. She'd always thought about him as the guy who'd watch a bad scifi B movie from the seventies while munching on a bowl of popcorn. But instead, he seemed to have a strange fascination with anything Bogart, from African Queen to High Sierra, and from The Big Sleep to Maltese Falcon – Peter Bishop's Bogart library was extensive.

Granted, there was something quite comforting about curling up next to him, his hands absentmindedly stroking her back while they watched a movie. It was so... wonderfully normal, to say the least. For a couple hours a night they could just be themselves and not have to worry about saving the world. Just like normal people.

Peter's feet were propped up on the coffee table, his arm tightly wrapped around Olivia whose head rested against his shoulder. Peter's choice of the night had been Maltese Falcon, a movie Olivia never had watched before simply for the fact that she had fallen in love with Hammett's novel during high school, and the version of private investigator Sam Spade she had created in her mind still looked like a cross between Luke Perry's Dylan McKay and Johnny Depp's Tom Hanson. Now, about halfway through the movie, she had to admit though that there was something quite enthralling about the way Bogart played Sam Spade.

Not that she had been able to pay a lot of attention to what was going on on screen though, with Walter constantly walking through the living room, blocking the TV each time and then either creating a ruckus in the kitchen or in his room upstairs that he had confined himself to. While Peter seemed to be rather oblivious to the older man, simply ignoring him for good reason, Olivia just could not. Maybe, in hindsight, it had not been such a good idea to leave the calmness of her apartment behind in order to move their movie watching to the Bishop house for a change.

So when, for about the fifth time during the movie, Walter decided to take the long path through the living room into the kitchen instead of just crossing the short distance from the stairs through the hallway, Olivia finally resigned to the fact that that big smirk she always noticed on Walter's face was most probably not the result of whatever experiment he was indulging himself in tonight and his trips to the kitchen a mere excuse to either check if they were really just watching a movie and not making out on the couch or to simply revel in the fact that, even while the world around them seemed to be falling apart, his son was happy.

"You walk in front of the TV one more time and I am gonna lock you into your room for the rest of the night, Walter," Peter's voice soared completely over Bogart's voice that was blaring from the TV. Olivia just chuckled. Maybe Peter wasn't as oblivious to Walter as she always thought he was.

"Would now be a good time to remind you that I've been saying the whole afternoon that movie watching at your place is probably not such a good idea?"

Peter just rolled his eyes at her while pulling her closer to him to place a quick kiss on her lips, "We've always got the choice of ditching the movie, going upstairs and locking the door behind us. No more interruptions from Walter."

His fingers brushed a strand of blonde hair away that had fallen into her face, gently tucking it behind her ear. He loved it when she wore her hair down. Twirling a lock around his fingers, playfully tugging at it to get her full attention, was something he thoroughly enjoyed but which, given her preference for the ponytail at work, he hardly ever got to do during the day.

"I thought you were so insistent on watching Maltese Falcon tonight," she replied, a naughty grin on her face as her eyebrow did that little twitching thing that almost instantly caused Peter's mind to go into overdrive. She knew just which of his buttons to push at the exact moment that they demanded to be pushed.

"And I thought you weren't particularly fond of Bogart?"

His nose was now nuzzling the side of her face while his lips found just that spot on her neck that gave her goosebumps each and every time his teeth gently grazed the sensitive skin. Her reply was a soft moan and her whole body relaxed as she allowed Peter's hand to slip under her shirt, splaying his fingers on her back, fingertips smoothly grazing over her bare skin.

"Walter is in the kitchen," she breathed shortly before his lips claimed hers in a passionate kiss. Ignoring her warning, he started to lay himself further back onto the couch when he noticed the light in the kitchen turning off, bringing her down on top of him, their kiss never broken.

"He took the shortcut back upstairs."

His voice was raspy when he said it before claiming her mouth with his again. His fingers were slowly traveling up her spine until they reached the clasp of her bra. It took him a mere second to undo it which prompted Olivia to grind her body against him, enticing a deep, guttural groan from him when he felt her hip, with just the right pressure, rub up against his crotch.

"Upstairs."

She just nodded at him before she lifted her body off him and, with her hand intertwined with his, pulled him back into a sitting position while she began stepping backwards slowly towards the hallway. Bogart bellowed out an appropriate "Let's go somewhere we can talk" just moments before Peter reached for the remote on the coffee table to turn off the TV, causing him to chuckle. His eyes were still fixed on Olivia who seductively licked her lower lip with her tongue while, once again, giving him that wink with her eyebrow.

In a swift move, he was off the couch and pulled her back towards him, her body crashing against his as his hand circled her body, snuck under her shirt again and came to rest on the small of her back. All he wanted that moment was to feel her naked skin against his, hear her moan and writhe under his his touch... but the insistent ringing of his cell phone brought him back to reality almost instantly.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he groaned while Olivia just shook her head at him, signaling him to ignore the phone. He gave her a shrug as he released her from his arms and bent down to the coffee table where his vibrating phone was dancing like a little wind-up toy. With a sigh, he first glanced at the phone, then pressed the little green button on the screen to answer the call.

"Nina, what can I do for you at this hour of the day?"

He heard Olivia chuckle next to him, assuming it was caused by the widespread sarcastic grin that had spread over his face to mimic the tone in his voice. It was almost 10pm, and calls from Nina Sharp at this hour of the day, or at any other time of the day, usually meant nothing good. His grin quickly disappeared as he listened to what she had to say. Absentmindedly, he scratched the back of his head, seeing Olivia mouth a silent "what?" towards him.

"Are you sure?"

There was a slight hint of confusion in his voice and he continued to rub his neck while listening intently to the voice on the phone. Not even a minute later, he ended the call, then tucked the phone safely into the back pocket of his jeans.

"I don't like that look on your face," Olivia uttered, "I assume upstairs is no longer an option?"

He shook his head at her, "She wants me down at Massive Dynamic ASAP."

"You? Did she say why?"

"A message came through the typewriter. A message directed at me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 2  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This was written for last year's Fringe Mini Bang over at Livejournal. I started this about halfway through season 3, so this will completely ignore everything that has happened starting roughly at about episode 3x14 "6B". You will also have to bear with me a little as this is a multi-chapter fic that I intend to update at least once a week, most probably twice a week if RL permits.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favourited this story. I hope you will stick with me until the end :)

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Barely two hours later, Peter and Olivia rounded the empty hallways of Massive Dynamic towards Nina Sharp's office. The message that had come through the typewriter earlier hadn't been the first one to be sent from the other side since they had discovered the machine. Messages about what was happening over there infrequently arrived at various times of the day. They didn't know who was sending them or if they were for real, so they always took them with a grain of salt. Whatever had come through the typewriter tonight though seemed to have triggered an alert powerful enough for Nina Sharp to immediately call Peter and demand his presence.

She met the pair in the long corridor in front of her office already, a concerning frown on her face that instantly turned into surprise when she noticed that Peter had brought along Olivia. She had told him over the phone that the message had been for him, that it was best he dealt with it alone for the moment, but still, the younger Bishop had decided to ignore her advice and bring along the young, blonde haired FBI agent.

"What's so important that we had to fly down to New York in the middle of the night?"

Nina ignored Peter and regarded Olivia with one of her trademark smiles, "Olivia, what a pleasure to see you. I wasn't expecting your presence here tonight."

"She goes where I go," Peter simply said, and once again pressed the issue at hand, "What's so important that came through the typewriter that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"It's a rather delicate situation that I wanted to be handled right away."

Nina pushed open the door to her office and motioned for Peter and Olivia to step inside. The wide, oddly angled office was brightly illuminated even after midnight, and the almost empty desk that sat lonely towards the back looked more like a surgical table in this sterile looking environment of white without any kind of colorful contrast anywhere. They took their seats in the chairs in front of the desk while Nina took her usual spot on the other side of the table.

"You are aware that we still don't know who is sending us messages from the other side, why this person is sending them and if they can be trusted," she started as she pressed a small button on the intercom that sat to her right," We have always treated anything that has come through with the appropriate kind of skepticism."

"Which is why I don't understand why this couldn't wait until tomorrow," Peter responded.

"The message that was sent has a rather... alarming content. I have pondered for a long while if I was going to let this sit on my desk until tomorrow but we have received two more messages with the same content. Whoever is sending these messages is demanding a reaction from us. Or specifically, from you, Peter."

Peter and Olivia both shifted uncomfortably in their chairs as they watched Nina's assistant walk into the office and place a manila folder in the middle of the desk. A black gloved hand immediately claimed property of the file before either Peter or Olivia even got a chance to reach for it. Whatever was hidden inside was alarming Nina Sharp in a manner that they had never seen before. Her fingers curled around the folder tightly, but eventually she held it out towards Peter.

"Please remember that we don't know if these messages are real or not."

He took the folder from her and flipped it open. His eyes immediately fixed on the single line that was printed on the first page. For a long while, he said nothing while he flipped back and forth between the three sheets or paper that each contained the very same message. From a distance, he could hear Olivia say his name, but he just shook his head.

What he had read on those pages, real or not, it was something he had never ever expected to hear. At least not from the other side. Because if what they had sent was real, it would change everything. Absolutely everything. His mind was racing as he looked up at Olivia, the shock and confusion evident all over his face. Eyes narrowing in on her, he closed the folder without even looking and flung it on Nina's desk.

"It's a joke. It has to be!" was all he said before he rose from his chair and hurried out of the office.

Olivia looked after him, pondering for a moment if she should run after him, but then decided that she needed to read the message herself first. When she turned back towards Nina's desk, she found the older woman holding out the manila folder for her already.

"If what was sent is true, you have to remember that Peter really loves you. Only you."

Nina's words slightly irritated Olivia as she took the file from her. She had had this nagging feeling ever since the call had come in that whatever had been sent from the other side had to do with her alternate self. And, given Peter's reaction and Nina's warning, that nagging feeling just intensified. With trembling fingers, she held the folder in front of her, not sure if she really wanted to know what was inside.

Just thinking about what had happened between Peter and the Olivia Dunham from the other universe ripped open old wounds and brought back memories of sorrow and despair that she'd rather not remember. But whatever had upset Peter so greatly, it was enough to make him run out of Nina's office... and if she wanted to help him, she needed to know and understand. So she pulled out the sheets and placed them on top of the folder. What she read was like a punch in the gut. Three short sentences that sent her mind reeling, making her want to run just like Peter did before. Because this – this could not be happening.

The grip she had on the papers slowly loosened, the sheets fell from her hands and sailed miserably down onto the floor. With those papers, her whole world came crashing down as well. There, at her feet, lay three pieces of paper that all held the same message, a message that bore into her with such intensity that it made her stomach turn.

_Peter Bishop. Your son needs your help. He is in danger._


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 2  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Okay, the cat is out of the bag. As if you couldn't have guessed ;) I know there's a bunch of baby Dunham fics out there but mine's going a slightly different route... at least I think it does! Therefore I hope you'll stick with me till the end. Again, thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favorited this story. I really appreciate that.

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Peter sat crouched down against the wall in front of Nina Sharp's office. His head was resting between his knees, his breathing shallow and labored. He had a son on the other side. A son with the other Olivia Dunham. A son that resulted out of the biggest mistake of his life. A son that should never have existed.

What the Observer had told him suddenly made sense. _It must be very difficult being a father. _Peter had pondered a lot about why he would say this to him. After all, he was no father. And he needed no reminding about what Walter had done or why he had done it. The outcome of a decision a father had made was still changing universes, and not for the better. But the Observer had not meant Walter, or even Walternate. He had talked about him. Peter Bishop. A father.

There, on the other side, was a little boy who needed help. His little boy. He was a father. And whatever had prompted not only one but three messages within twelve hours, it had to be grave. What had just happened was so surreal, he couldn't quite comprehend if he was really at Massive Dynamic or if he was sleeping in bed next to Olivia, having a nightmare. Because a nightmare this really was, dreaming or not.

He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder, only to see Olivia standing next to him. From the look on her face, the sadness, hurt and desperation that he could see in her eyes, he knew that she knew. She crouched down next to him, her hand immediately reaching out for his. Her touch was warm and comforting as they sat in silence in the empty hallway. She wasn't turning away from him, wasn't screaming at him, wasn't accusing him. She was just there, sitting next to him on the cold floor, and holding his hand.

"They're waiting for a response," she finally said, waiting for any kind of reaction from him to her words.

Peter just shook his head silently and turned away from her. He didn't know what to say or what to feel, let alone feel himself fit to think at that moment. The ground had just caved in around him and while he was desperately holding on to Olivia's hand, he felt like falling, deeper and deeper and deeper. Just when he had thought he had found his one true place where he belonged, the world around him was spinning out of control once again.

"Hey," he felt her fingers brushing against his jaw as she gently turned his face towards her, "don't pull away from me now."

"There's a kid in the other universe that's mine," his admission was a mere whisper against the cold air in the hallway, "and I have no clue in hell what to do about it."

"Me neither," she took a deep breath, "I do know though that whoever sent those messages sent them for a reason. We have to figure out who sent them and why they sent them."

Once again, Peter shook his head, "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters."

"No," his voice had turned bitter and cold, "it doesn't."

He sprung to his feet and had vanished down the corridor and around a corner before Olivia could even react. He was doing the only thing he knew to do when things got too rough for him to deal with... he ran. Just get away from everything as far as possible. Why was it that every time he had found just a little bit of happiness in his life, something, or someone, from the other side had to come and screw it all up. Nothing had affected him so deeply since he had found out he was from the other side, not even the machine. Because with that doomsday device, he at least was able to learn and to fight. But with this... there was not one freaking thing he could do. Except run. So he did.

He got as far as the almost empty street outside of Massive Dynamic Headquarters when Olivia caught up with him. She was just walking next to him, matching his fast pace, not saying a word. Her hand had slipped into his sometime after they had turned onto 10th Avenue, and he held onto her closely, as if he was asking her to keep him steady, to keep him from falling. But he knew that just as much as he was holding onto her, she was holding onto him as well. It wasn't just his world that had come tumbling down only minutes before... hers was crashing as well.

Desperation slowly turned into anger. He was furious at _her_, furious about what she had done to him. He was furious at Walternate, for sending _her_ over here with his pretty little agenda, but even more furious at him for what he had intended to do with Olivia. Most of all, he was furious at himself though... that he had fallen for _her_ ploy, had not seen through _her_, and had been stupid enough to let it come this far.

"I think Walternate's only intention seems to be to make my life miserable," he said while his thumb absentmindedly brushed over the back of Olivia's hand, "He wants to stick me into this machine to destroy this universe which most probably is gonna kill me in the process. And because he couldn't just have me, he tortured you, sent _her_ to manipulate me and now he's using a child to blackmail me into coming back."

"Is that what you think?"

He shrugged, "What else should I think?"

"What if _she _sent the message?"

"No."

It was the only answer he was going to give her.

"Don't you think we should at least find out?"

"And how do you think we should do that other than crossing over?"

"Send something back that only _she_ will know how to respond to," Olivia slowed down her pace and finally stopped, forcing him to come to a halt as well when she didn't let go of his hand, "There's a child in the other universe that's yours. Don't you even care a little?"

He hung his head, looking down at the gray asphalt beneath his feet. Of course he cared. He cared so much it made his head spin and his heart ache. He had made a mistake... a mistake that had not almost ruined Olivia's life, but also his. They had finally found a way to move on from that just to have everything smashed to pieces. Yes, he did care about that little boy in the other universe, but also cared about the woman who stood only a step behind him and whose hand was tightly holding onto his. He had seen what his betrayal had done to her and he didn't want to see her like that again. Not ever. So what was he supposed to do?

"I know you care."

He turned around to face her, but what he saw wasn't what he had expected. Her eyes were shining with so much love and devotion, and her lips were curved into a small, but reassuring smile. It was her way of telling him that she was strong, that she wasn't going to break. But most importantly it also told him that no matter what, she would stand by his side and be there for him.

"I have so fucked up, Olivia. How can I fix this?"

She just shrugged her shoulders at him, "Find out what they want for a start? Then we can decide what else we want to do."

With a weak smile on his face, he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers, "Do you have any idea how much it means to me that you just said we?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 4  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong>I'm sorry for the delay in getting out this chapter. The only excuse I can offer is that I actually do have a life. A life outside of fandom that is ;) So without further ramblings about why I'm late posting this, here's chapter 4! Thanks for sticking me with me so far and I hope you'll continue the journey with me until the very end. Thanks for all the great feedback I've received as well! If you ever feel as if you want to say something about this story, good or bad (I LOVE constructive feedback!) but don't want to do so in public, I'm always just a PM away.

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><p>. <p>

Peter sat crouched down in the corner of the Massive Dynamic lab, his eyes fixed on the typewriter that sat on the table at the other end of the room. Two hours ago, Olivia had sent a message to the other side, asking a question that only the other Olivia Dunham could answer.

At first, Peter had paced the floor impatiently while Olivia had sat in the chair at the table the Selectric sat on, watching his every move. After she had told him that he was making her dizzy, he had sat down in one of the other desk chairs in the room but had soon found that doing nothing other than impatiently tapping his finger on the table's smooth surface was driving him crazy.

His mind was going berserk. While he was pacing the lab floor, it at least had helped distract him from thinking why it was that they were stuck in a lab at almost 3 in the morning. Now, all that was going through his mind was the thought of a child in the other universe that was supposed to be his, but as much as he tried to calculate, the timeline was always wrong. Eight weeks he had had with the other Olivia Dunham, out of which they had spent six really together. If there was a little boy on the other side that was his, just as the message had said and the Observer had implied, he couldn't be more than a few days old.

It just reinforced his suspicion that this was nothing more than a ploy from Walternate to get him to come to the other side. The math was all wrong. It had to be. It was the only thing he could believe in... the only thing he _wanted_ to believe in. Because everything else would mean that his life had collapsed completely.

His eyes remained glued on the typewriter even as he heard the door to the lab opening somewhere to his right and footsteps approaching. He didn't want to talk, he hadn't felt like it since they'd sent the message over the wire, so he just sat there, crouched in the corner of the lab while the footsteps stopped right next to him. Olivia came into his line of view when she slid down against the cold white wall and held a cup of steaming coffee in front of his face.

Silently, he took it from her, his fingers curling tightly around the warm plastic container. It was eerie how she always knew what he needed when he himself wasn't really sure. She hadn't pressured him to talk, she had just let him be, allowing him to sort through his thoughts and feelings. And just when he thought that he wasn't able to go on any longer, when he felt drained and empty, she'd appeared with a cup of coffee. He let out a light chuckle at the thought of this and turned his eyes away from the typewriter, gazing at the woman who sat crouched down beside him.

She had pulled her knees up to her chest and had tightly wrapped her arms around her legs while she was looking off into the distance. Long strands of blond hair were falling loosely over her shoulders, cascading down her body like a beautiful waterfall in the still of the night.

"Where's your coffee?" he asked, and she moved to face him with a shrug of her shoulders, "Didn't feel like having one."

She gave him a weak smile before she glanced back at the Selectric that was as still as it had been for the last couple hours. The silence, the waiting, it was dreadful. But there was nothing else for either of them to do, nothing but wait.

"I never wanted to be a father."

Peter's voice was nothing more than a whisper that hung in the air between them. He didn't dare look at the woman next to him, didn't dare take his eyes away from the typewriter, afraid that once he did, he would miss the movement of the keys that would tell him once and for all that this was nothing more than another desperate attempt from his father to bring him back to the other side. That none of this was true, that he still was just Peter Bishop. Not a father.

He heard the shifting of feet on the tile floor, and even without looking, he knew that Olivia had tightened the grip around her own legs, had pulled them even closer to her body, had wrapped herself even tighter into her own little cocoon. What he said had caught her off-guard, he was sure of that. But the truth was that yes, he never wanted to be a father.

"My father," he gave a sarcastic snort, "Walter, he was never around. My mother raised me. By the time I was eighteen, I was off cruising the world. I was alone. I had nowhere to go, no place where I belonged. But you know all that."

His fingers fidgeted with the coffee cup in his hands, and he took a big gulp. The hot liquid slipped down his throat, filling his body with a strange, but comforting warmness. For just a moment, it took off the edge as the heat rose inside him, relaxing his muscles, relaxing him. Coffee always had that effect on him.

He stole a quick glance over his shoulder, just to see Olivia sit motionless next to him. Her fingers were rubbing lightly over the coarse fabric of her dark jeans, her eyes no longer fixed on the Selectric but on her knees. How much he wanted to reach out for her, put his arms around her and hold her close to him... but he couldn't. He'd caused her so much pain already, and no matter how hard he tried not to, he still hurt her even more.

He dropped his shoulders, "A child had no place in my fucked up world."

Until that one day that had changed it all. The one day when his life had suddenly found a purpose. The day he finally discovered the one place in the world where he belonged.

"And then," he picked up his monologue after taking another sip of his coffee, "this one day, in a hotel in Baghdad, in the middle of a war zone, this feisty, beautiful, sexy, FBI agent walks up to me. And guess what, she conned _me_, the conman."

"I guess she had a pretty good poker face," came the reply from beside him, and he chuckled, "I never thought that anybody would be able to con me. I made a living by scamming people. I was a pro, the best at what I did. And yet... she still conned me."

When he turned, he found her looking at him, a faint smile playing across her face.

"You remember what you said to me when I was getting ready to take Walter back to St. Claire's?" He paused for a moment to watch her nod at him silently, "You looked so lost, so vulnerable... and then suddenly, there was this smile on your face. That was the moment when I knew I'd found the one place where I wanted to be, where I wanted to belong. That day... it changed my life. It changed me. You changed me."

His gaze dropped to his hand that was still holding on tightly to the coffee cup as if he was holding on for dear life. He'd never been one to talk openly about himself, about his life, about his feelings. With Olivia, that all had changed, and he had to admit that it felt good, that it made him feel better even at the worst times. They'd build a trust and understanding that he'd never experienced before and that, for nothing in his life, he would want to miss.

Even though he'd never told her in words directly, she knew that she was the one for him, that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. She was the part of him that had been missing, the part of him that kept him grounded, that made him feel like he belonged. He didn't know how long he'd kept his head bowed, he just knew that the moment he looked back up, she was still there, still looking at him, still the same smile on her face.

"I've been thinking a lot lately about me, about you, about us. What I want for my life, what I want for our life. This... this baby thing... I wanna be a father one day, Olivia. Just not like this."

That was the moment when the keys of the Selectric came to life, and with loud, clacking sounds, the typewriter started to spit out its message.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 5  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Yes, I'm late again *sigh* You guys need to poke me when I don't post anything a weekend! I'm dead serious! As I mentioned before, I'm just a PM away. Sometimes I just need some poking to get something done (just ask my lovely betareader XD). Anyways, I won't make you wait any longer, so here's chapter 5! Thanks for sticking me with me so far and I hope you'll continue the journey with me until the very end. Thanks for all the great feedback I've received as well!

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><p>.<p>

"We're gonna cross over."

Olivia's words still rang in his ears as he held the single sheet of paper in his hands that he had taken from the typewriter last night. At first, the Selectric had spat out two single words.

_Froot Loops._

One point for the other side, he had thought when he had seen the reply. Just like this side's counterpart, the Rachel Dunham on the other side had had a craving for the colorful breakfast cereal as a child. They intentionally had decided to ask a question that could not have been answered by knowing Olivia Dunham or simply reading about her life in a file.

When the Selectric had rattled to spit out another line of words on the paper, Olivia had just nodded at him silently, letting him know that even the second part of the question had been answered right.

_Not the green ones. They reminded her of veggies. She hated veggies._

On the other side, Olivia Dunham had truthfully answered the questions. Whether she had done it of her own volition or had been forced to, they didn't know. Or if this was one of Walternate's ploys that she could be involved in. All they knew for sure was that the Olivia Dunham of the other side was somehow connected to the messages.

But the Selectric had spat out one more line of text that neither Peter nor Olivia were prepared for.

_He needs help. 10PM. Forest Park. Meet us at the Carousel._

This was the line he had been staring at for well over an hour, the line that had prompted Olivia to tell him that they were going to cross over. She had thrown all caution to the wind and had just decided. It was just what he had expected from her. If there was someone who needed saving, Olivia Dunham would rise to the rescue. And if that someone was a child, she'd ignore all dangers to go and save him.

She was the optimist – go and help the kid. Just like always. And he was the pessimist, the cautious one asking all the questions that she had chosen to ignore. What if this is a trap? What if there is no child that needs saving? Walter says crossing over is safe but what if it isn't? What if you're gonna get hurt?

"We'll go prepared."

That's all she had told him before she had headed out, leaving him behind alone to think. Something about Olivia's insistence to cross to the other side, to go and rescue a child that he had had with her alternate left him feeling unsettled. It was just like it had been when he had told her about _her_. First, she was calm about it, accepting, understanding – just like she was now. And then the blow came, the moment when she had told him that _she'd _taken everything from her and that she didn't want to be with him. And once again, _she _was threatening to take everything. From him, from her, from them. It never seemed to stop, no matter how hard they tried.

Still, he knew she was right. If they wanted to find out the truth behind those messages, they had to cross over. There was the possibility that this wasn't Walternate pulling another stunt to get him, that, indeed, this was real. And that, he couldn't just ignore. It wasn't just about him, about Olivia, about _her_, anymore. There was a child involved. A baby. And innocent little boy that was his.

He folded the paper twice in half and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans, then headed out in search for Olivia. He rang her twice while he waited for the elevator, but the calls always went to voicemail. With a _ping_, the elevator doors opened and he stepped inside while leaving a message for Olivia that he was looking for her and that she should call him back. He was about to tell her that he was sorry when the elevator doors closed and his cell reception was cut off.

The hallways were still empty in the huge building when he exited on the eleventh floor, but he knew that that would change within the hour when the first Massive Dynamic employees started to appear for their daily work routine. Even up here, people would soon be scurrying around like busy bees, most of them oblivious to what was really happening around them at this company.

He finally reached his destination, a light gray door at the end of the hallway that wasn't any different from the rest of the doors in the buildings... except that behind that door lay the provisional office of one Walter Bishop, owner of Massive Dynamic. If he'd find Olivia anywhere in the building, it would be here.

The sight that lay before him when he opened the door and stepped into the large office caused him to smile. While most of Massive Dynamic's interior was colored in any possible shade of gray between white and black, there was not a single spec of black or gray to be found here. The office was decked out in the three primary colors and almost every possible shade that resulted from a combination of either these colors. This office was definitely something else.

But it wasn't the extravagant interior design that had made him smile. The first rays of sunlight that crept through the windows fell on the sleeping figure that lay curled up on the bright purple couch that sat against the wall on the far side of the vast room. Long strands of blond hair had fallen into Olivia's face, moving rhythmically with her every breath.

For a moment, Peter just stood there, in the middle of the room, and watched her sleep. She looked so peaceful sleeping, and he never grew tired of seeing her like that. Her guard down, vulnerable, and at peace with the world. Silently, he stepped closer and crouched down in front of it.

He gently pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear which caused her to move slightly. Cupping her cheek with the palm of his hand, she moved closer into his touch as a soft, low moan escaped from her lips. He chuckled, then bent down and placed a short but tender kiss on her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment, but remained shut.

Peter could tell though that she had woken. Her breathing quickened, and after a while, her sleep laden eyes opened.

"I didn't want to wake you," he whispered as he sat down on the floor, leaning against the couch next to her.

"It's okay," she replied, her hand reaching out to caress the back of his neck, "What time is it?"

"Shortly after seven."

Olivia took a deep breath, then rolled onto her back and sat up. She ran her hand through her hair, disentangling a few knots that had formed during her short nap before reaching for her cell phone that she had stuffed under the pillow her head had been resting on.

"I called Astrid earlier. She and Walter are taking the first flight down here. They should be getting into JFK shortly."

She started to rise from the couch, but Peter reached for her wrist and held her back.

"I'm sorry," he said out of the blue, startling her completely.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. It's all just so fucking confusing," he took a deep breath before he continued, "I didn't want to sound as if I didn't care. Because I do."

"I know you do," Olivia replied, "You always do."

"I just don't know what to do. What to feel. But what has my mind reeling is that I don't know what she wants me to do. I mean, if she wants me to cross over and stay to help protect the kid..."

His voice trailed off and he turned away from her. He finally had said out loud what had been on his mind from the moment that he had learned that there was a child on the other side that was his. To cross over and stay to help raise the kid or not – that was what really was eating at him. He knew what it was like to grow up without a father. As far back as he could remember, it had always left him empty, a part of him missing. It was a feeling he didn't want to wish on anyone, especially not his own child.

"You don't want to leave your son behind."

He just nodded, then turned back to face her. There was this smile on her, that reassuring smile that always told him that nothing was as bad as it looked. That everything was going to be all right. Olivia Dunham, ever the optimist.

"I can't stay on the other side. This side needs me," he took a deep breath before he added, "I need to be here."

"It isn't an easy decision to make, I know. But you have to figure out for yourself what is more important to you and make a decision that you can truly live with for the rest of your life. Because whatever is going to happen, whatever you decide, you can't go back. You will have to choose. And whatever the outcome, you know I'll support you all the way."

His hand reached out towards her, his fingers twisting a strand of her long blonde hair around his fingers, "You are the most important to me."

She shook her head at him, "You shouldn't choose between me or your son. I could never live with that. Choose between this world or theirs, but don't make me a factor in any of this. I'm not important."

"Self-sacrificing doesn't suit you one bit, Olivia," he uttered with a bitter laugh, "You are as an important piece in all this as is that baby on the other side."

"I shouldn't be."

"But you are." There was a long pause between them before Peter spoke up again, "I just have to know that when we cross over, you won't make a decision on your own and leave me stranded over there."

"I promise I won't."

He flashed her a weak smile as he held out his hand for her, "Then let's get ready for the big crossing over. We need a plan."


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 6  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Here it is, chapter 6. I think we're at about halfway point for the fic - more or less. I kind of have lost track of how many chapters there are XD Some are still with my betareader and she usually has the final say about stuff. So some stuff may go, some stuff may have to be added... we'll see. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy what I'm posting. If you like it, drop me a note, as a review or in private. I love talking fics :)

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><p>.<p>

Walter was aimlessly pacing the floor of the big basement lab while chewing on a red vine. He was oblivious to everything that was going on around him as he was deep in thought. Olivia had asked him to run a complete check on her to make sure that there would not be any nasty side effects from crossing over. What had caused her seizure after her crossing over from the other side the last time still remained unsolved, and she didn't want a repeat of that. The last thing they needed was her passing out on the other side, leaving them stranded and trapped in Walternate's hostile world. Being locked up twice in his underground laboratory on Liberty Island was enough. She never wanted to go back there. Ever.

The Cortexiphan levels in her system were still high which Walter had attributed to her overdosing on the drug during her last, and successful, attempt to escape from the other side. He had also claimed the drug overdose to be responsible for her seizure, rambling on about the first unsuccessful test on adult subjects and how three out of four of those tests had always resulted in massive seizures as well.

But Olivia wasn't satisfied – and neither was Peter. He had left the lab earlier, not being able to just sit around and wait for Walter to have a sudden epiphany about whether it was safe for Olivia to cross them over or not. Part of him just wanted Walter to say that it wasn't safe, that they shouldn't cross over and just remain over here. Then he wouldn't have to make a decision. The decision would have been made for him. But it never would be so easy, would it? Even if Walter would say that it was risky, he knew that Olivia would insist that they still needed to do it. She was no quitter. And that was why he loved her.

"So you say that as long as I don't take more Cortexiphan, I should be fine. No more seizures. Right, Walter?"

"It's my theory," he responded to Olivia's question, still nibbling on the last bit of his red vine, "Your levels are high, much higher than any adult should be able to tolerate. I assume you injected yourself with an even higher dose which, combined with the stress of crossing over, caused the seizure. But that's only my speculation."

Olivia stuffed her hands into her pockets and raised her shoulders, "So we're back to square one."

"If I had a bit more time..."

"We don't have more time, Walter. Peter and I need to cross over today. And I need to make sure that I am able to get us over there and back in one piece."

"Maybe if I..." Walter's voice trailed off in the middle of the sentence as he raced across the room towards one of the machines. He frantically tapped on the keys on the keyboard attached to it, causing it to beep rapidly as the monitor flashed in all different colors at him.

But Olivia knew that whatever Walter was doing, it would produce no answer to the question that was nagging at her the most. Was crossing over safe for her and was she able to cross them back over without any harm done? In the end, it would be like it always was – she would just have to take her chances and hope for the best.

She knew that if Walter had told her that she would risk another seizure when crossing over, she still would have taken her chances. Because saving that little child on the other side also meant saving the world, she had come to accept that. If her alternate version was so desperate to ask Peter and her for help, there was immediate danger for the boy. And that danger could only come from Walternate.

The only thing Olivia hadn't figure out yet though was just how exactly she'd cross them over. They'd found a weak spot which would come to her advantage but she still couldn't say how exactly she had managed to cross over in the past. All she had done was concentrate and think, but if it had been that easy, Walternate wouldn't have been able to pull her back three times. Whatever was different when she crossed over to find Peter and when she finally came back, she had to figure it out. Fast. As they were running out of time.

It was shortly after noon when Olivia heard the door to the lab open behind her and Peter stepped in. She just shook her head at him, letting him know that Walter had not come up with anything new. Crooking his head to his side, Peter answered her with a shrug of his shoulders. He hadn't expected a miracle.

The 2PM deadline they had set themselves for crossing over was rapidly approaching. Their plan wasn't fool proof and they had no backup, but that wasn't really anything new. They had no idea what to expect on the other side, what exactly it was that they would find there. They were wringing it, just as they always were.

"We could still call this all off," he said as he stopped next to Olivia and looked over to Walter at the other end of the lab, still frantically hitting keys and causing the machine to make all kinds of erratic beeping noises.

"That was never an option," she replied without even looking at him.

"I know."

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, mimicking her as he stood inside the lab just as lost as she was. For awhile, they just remained where they were, silently watching Walter tinker with machines until Peter removed his hand from his pocket and reached for Olivia's arm. She looked over her shoulder and found him looking back at her with that certain expression that said they needed to talk. In private. She tipped her head, indicating for him to follow her to the small observation room that lay adjacent to the big lab.

"You've made a decision," she said as she closed the door behind them, not daring to look at him.

"There's something we haven't talked about yet," came his reply as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Slowly, he turned her around, forcing her to look at him. Olivia's gaze was poised at her feet, so he placed a finger under her chin and gently tilted her face up to look at him.

"I've been thinking. If this is not a ruse, if I really do have a son on the other side and if he is in danger from Walternate, what could I possibly do to help? Talk to Walternate? As if he would listen to me. Stay and protect my son? Anyone could do that, he wouldn't need me for that. So I've been thinking what I would do."

"Send him away as far as possible, where no one could get to him," Olivia replied, her voice a mere whisper.

"Yeah," there was a small pause before he continued, "Would you do that?"

"Bring him back here?"

"If this is what the other you wants, if she wants me to take him... It would change everything."

"One step at a time?" she offered him, a weak smile crossing her lips that looked anything but convincing, "If that's what she wants from you, to take the baby, then we'll bring him back with us. And then we'll see where to go from there."

"Olivia, whatever's going to happen, I want you to know that nothing is ever going to change what I feel for you." His hand cupped her face, his thumb tenderly caressing the smooth skin of her face. "I love you. I always will."


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 7  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> It's the weekend, time for another chapter! I didn't forget :) So here's chapter 7 for you to read. I hope you enjoy what I'm posting. If you do, drop me a note, as a review or in private. I'm always just a PM away :)

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><p>.<p>

The summer sun was searing when they arrived at the weak spot. Part of Peter was still hoping that Olivia's attempt to cross them over would fail, but part of him also wanted to cross over and find out for once and for all if he really did have a son or if everything just had been one of Walternate's desperate attempts to bring him back.

They had agreed on a weak spot in Manhattan, far away from their meeting point in Queens though why Olivia had insisted on a particular spot on the Southwest side of downtown, he couldn't quite understand. There had been two spots close to the Queensboro Bridge which would have given them easy access to Queens and made their track to Forest Park a long but walkable distance. He wasn't going to question her decision though. She knew the other side better than he did and whatever her reasoning was for choosing that particular spot, he would accept it.

Their hands were locked, fingers tightly intertwined, as they walked into a small, deserted street just off Battery Place. Cars were parked at the dead end ahead, trees lining up behind them while the blue water of the Hudson River glistened in the sun off in the distance. This was their destination, their weak spot. The place where they would cross over to the other side.

Neither of them wanted to be there, but they both knew that they had to. Olivia took a deep breath, then stopped in the shade of one of the low buildings surrounding them. She squeezed Peter's hand, letting him know that she was ready. She felt him move in closer to her, wrap his arm around her waist while she closed her eyes and lowered her head towards the ground.

Concentrate and think. That was what Walter had pounded into her head. Concentrate and think. Concentrate and think. Her whole body started to tingle. Concentrate and think. Concentrate and think. She was shivering slightly. Concentrate and think. Concentrate and think. And then she felt the cool shade ripped away from around her and the hot sun burning down on her.

Her eyes snapped open immediately. The cars that had been parked in front of them were gone. As were the trees. What lay in front of them was a concrete desert which came to an abrupt end only a few yards away where the greenish water of the Hudson River splashed against the quay. They had arrived at their destination.

It took Olivia a moment to adjust to her new surroundings, to comprehend that she had really done it, that she had crossed them over. Her body was still shaking lightly, nausea creeping up as she swayed on her feet. Closing her eyes, she tried to steady herself and fight the nauseating feeling. This was new, it had never felt like this before. Not the first time, not the second.

She felt Peter's arm tightening around her waist, pulling her even closer to him which steadied her immediately. Her head dipped to one side and she rested it against his shoulder for a moment, trying to force her body to return to normal. First, the nausea vanished, along with the light-headedness, and then her body stopped shaking. All these new sensations had gone as fast and unexpected as they had washed over her.

When she opened her eyes and turned to her side, she found Peter looking directly around her. He had that intense expression on his face that he always donned when he was in a place where he didn't want to be, doing something he didn't really want to do. They were back in his home world, the place where all had this had started – the place they both had vowed they would never return to.

And then there was concern in Peter's eyes, the concern Olivia had seen so often before. Concern for her and her well-being. His arm was still tightly draped around her waist, holding her close to him, clinging to her as if he was holding on for dear life.

"C'mon," Olivia said softly, a faint smile on her face as entangled herself from his embrace, "We've got to get going."

She turned around and started to walk down the street. When Peter turned, he was startled by what he saw. What was the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel in their world was stretching before them as the Brooklyn Battery Bridge. A three lane highway cast a shadow over Battery Park which lay fenced in right in front of them. For a moment, he just stood there, then jogged down the street to catch up with Olivia. In silence, he followed her around a few corners until they found themselves under the bridge and right in front of a yellow cab.

He didn't notice the sigh of relief that escaped Olivia, neither the small smile that played across her face when she headed directly for the cab.

"Olivia," his voice was a whisper when he walked up next to her just when she was pulling open the back door of the cab. She answered him with a "trust me" just before she slipped onto the back seat and indicated for him the follow suit. The cab door closed with a loud 'clunk' which didn't even cause the driver to look up at them.

"I'm not accepting fares at the moment," he spat at them without even looking up from the news he was reading on the electronic pad that was perched on the steering wheel in front of him.

"Hello Henry. Long time no see."

Olivia's warm voice caused the driver's head to pop up and turn around. He was startled at first, but then a wide grin appeared on his face.

"Indeed. I didn't expect you to see you again."

"I didn't exactly plan to come back here either. But things have changed."

Henry tilted his head to one side, "Who's he?"

Peter reached out his hand, "Peter Bishop."

"Oh, Peter," Henry chuckled as they shook hands, "You're the sort-of I assume. Henry Higgins."

"Sort-of?"

"Long story," Olivia told Peter before she turned back to Henry, "He's the definite now. And we need your help."

"Ah, yeah, come to Henry when you need help," there was no mistaking the sarcastic tone in Henry's voice, "Last time I helped you, I had Fringe Division on my tail."

Olivia grimaced, "Sorry. I hope they didn't cause you too much trouble."

"You have no idea, lady," he paused shortly, "So, what can I help you with this time?"

"We need some info. And we need a ride."

"The latter I can help you with. The first I'm not so sure. Depends on what you need to know."

"I need info about me."

Silence filled the room while Henry started to fidget in his seat. He was a clever man, so it didn't take him long to figure out why exactly Olivia Dunham had come back to this side after everything she had gone through. He answered her with a nod, "Let's take a drive while we talk."

He turned towards the passenger seat and reached right under the glove box, fidgeting with a small box that was attached to the underside of the dashboard before he sat back in his seat and started the engine.

"Last time it cost me 300 bucks to replace the tracker."

"Now you come prepared."

"Hey, you never know when someone like Olivia Dunham stumbles into your cab. You better be prepared."

Olivia laughed and leaned forward towards the front seat, "You've been keeping tabs on me, haven't you?"

"Oh, c'mon, when a woman jumps off your boat in the middle of the East River, telling you she's about to go home to a different universe, you gotta check that out, right? You gotta make sure she's not pulling your leg."

"What happened?"

"She didn't recognize me. So I knew she wasn't you. I still didn't quite believe the whole alternate universe angle though."

"But you do now."

Peter's interjection caused Henry to look up at the rearview mirror and lock eyes with him. The cab driver quickly shrugged his shoulders before he turned his attention back on traffic in front of him.

"You're here because of her, aren't you?"

Olivia leaned back against the seat as Henry turned the car North onto Broadway, "What makes you think that?"

"I think she got herself into a little bit of trouble."

"And just how little is that trouble?" Peter cut in again.

"I've been checking in on her now and then to make sure she was doing okay, all right? So last week, while driving down her street, I notice these guys in a car parked outside her house. Didn't think much of it until when I pass by her house again a couple hours later, the guys are still there. Sitting in that black car in the summer heat. Made me kinda suspicious. With her being kidnapped before and all."

"They're still trailing her?"

"No," came Henry's short reply.

"Henry," Olivia pressed, "What are you not telling us?"

He raised one hand in defense, "Okay, okay. So I turn the corner and there I see her running out of the back alley, her baby in her arms. When she sees me, she jumps into the backseat and tells me to drive her to this address in Queens."

"And?"

"And what? Dropped her off at the corner of Broadway and 45th. That was the last time I saw her and the boy."

Olivia turned to look at Peter. No ruse, no ploy. The message had been real. Somewhere in this city, there was a little boy who needed help. Peter's son.

Peter shook his head at her silently before he turned to his side, staring out the window. He really did have a son with Olivia Dunham. Just with the wrong Olivia Dunham. And with the urgency that the messages had been sent through the typewriter, he had to assume that his son was in danger from his own grandfather. How much more fucked up could his life get?

He felt Olivia's fingers curl around his hand and squeeze it lightly, but he didn't turn to look at her. He couldn't. Instead he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cool window and closed his eyes.

"He okay?" Henry asked from the front, observing the couple in the backseat through the rearview mirror.

"We've got to get to Queens, " Olivia answered him, deliberately ignoring his question, "Can you take us there?"

"45th and Broadway?"

"She's not going to be there anymore," she took a deep breath, "Just drive for now."


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 8  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> It's Sunday! Time for another chapter! We're finally in the alternate universe, so let's see what's going to happen. I hope you enjoy what I'm posting. If you do, drop me a note, as a review or in private. I'm always just a PM away :)

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><p>.<p>

It was moments like these that reminded Olivia that it had not been a good idea to split up in a city like New York. On the one hand, it had given them the advantage of going unnoticed from the authorities, most importantly Fringe Division and the Secretary. On the other, it made keeping in touch all the more difficult. The phone lines were monitored, they both knew that. Using them was out of question. So they had decided to do it like people had done it for centuries. Leave paper messages.

They had certain spots all throughout the city, public, crowded places where they knew they would be unnoticed while hiding and retrieving short paper notes. They would always follow the same pattern. If one had left a message at one spot, move on to the next one and leave an answer. They would never show up any place twice, and never together. She had arrived at number eleven, expecting to find a note – but there wasn't one. She had checked the whole place three times, all while not drawing too much attention from the public and keeping out of reach of video surveillance. She couldn't stay much longer, knew that she had to move on to spot number twelve, but a part of her couldn't shake the feeling that something was not right. That at number twelve, there wouldn't be a message waiting for her either. That something had gone terribly wrong.

She felt a short tug on her long hair, causing her to stop observing her surroundings for just a moment. Tiny fingers were wrapped around a strand of her red hair, a pair of big blue eyes shining up at her while short giggles filled the air around her. The baby strapped to her body was bouncing happily in his carrier, unimpressed by all the commotion that was going on.

Olivia had never seen her son so bubbly and bouncy as she had seen him since they were on the run. She had always seen Henry as the silent observer, laying in his stroller or crib or sitting in his carrier and observing his surroundings with a pair of big, round eyes. Whenever she was around other mothers with their babies, her son was the most quiet, but also the most immobile baby of all. He wouldn't reach for things, he wouldn't even look at things... he would just sit and stare and not move.

Suddenly, there was that nagging feeling again that she should have noticed sooner that something had been so terribly wrong. From the day he had been born, Henry had slept a lot, had hardly ever cried or whined. While she had thought it to be odd - after all she had only ever heard from colleagues how much screaming and wailing their babies would do – everyone had told her that she was blessed to have such an easy baby boy. Even her mother had assured her numerous times that there was nothing wrong with Henry, that he was just that cute, little miracle baby.

The first few times she had picked him up from Liberty Island after a visit with the Secretary, all Henry had done was sleep. Sometimes, he would sleep not only through one feeding, but two. Trying to wake up him up was almost impossible, and if he did wake up to suck at his bottle, he would fall back to sleep after only a few minutes. She had taken him to his pediatrician several times, but the answer had always been the same: he was healthy, he was in his percentile, there was nothing to worry about. If he was hungry, he would make himself known.

Then she had noticed that glassy look. She knew well that at his age, Henry wasn't able to really focus on her or anything around him, that his surroundings were nothing but a blur of colors and lights. But the way he had kept looking at her had started to scare her. It had been as if he was looking right through her. He would react to noise, would turn in her direction when she spoke to him, but he had just kept on looking at her with that empty stare. Again, after numerous tests done at the pediatrician, she had been assured that her son was perfectly healthy, that there was nothing physically wrong with him.

It was when she began noticing the circular rashes on Henry's wrists and ankles after every visit with his grandfather at Liberty Island, that she had decided to take her son to a different pediatrician outside the city without the Secretary's knowledge. He had been diagnosed with contact dermatitis, probably caused by electrodes being stuck to his body. Nothing that some lotion couldn't cure, she had been told. But she still didn't know what had been done to her son at Liberty Island. After two weeks, she had found the courage to bluntly ask Walter Bishop about the rashes. His answer had been just what she had expected: it was nothing to worry about, probably just some allergic reaction due to a change in the detergent she used. He would have Henry checked out by a specialist.

From that day on, the rashes had stopped. But small, red pricks had started to appear on the soles of his feet. First just one on the left, then a couple on the right. They had been so tiny they could have easily been missed, but Olivia had known what to look for. The pediatrician in Upstate New York hadn't quite been able to explain the marks. They had been too small for a regular hypodermic needle, oddly shaped and in all the wrong places, too, but when Henry's blood work had come back showing an unknown substance in his bloodstream, there was no explanation needed any longer. That had been the moment when Olivia had finally been reassured that her intuition had been right all along – her baby son was the Secretary's newest pet project.

Trying to limit Henry's visits with his grandfather had not been an option. She had tried that once – only to be reminded ever so gently that it would take just a phone call to have Henry taken away from her forever. Olivia knew the Secretary wasn't bluffing. But if she wanted to keep her son safe, she needed to keep him away from Liberty Island. And the only way she could make sure of that was if she sent him away, to a place where even the Secretary would not be able to get to him.

Lincoln had called her insane when she had told him about her plan to send Henry to the other side. There was no way she would be able to pull that off without the Secretary ever finding out, especially since the only way to cross Henry over was by using technology available only within the secret, underground lab at Liberty Island. She had told him that she wasn't going to rely on a piece of junk that had pulled her back from the other side so violently, she had had to spend a whole day in the nano tank to recover.

Lincoln had called her even more insane when she had told him that she needed his help to get the Selectric out of secured storage to send a message to the other side. She was going to ask Henry's father for help. Because she knew that there was only one person who could help her take her son to safety – her alternate self.

For the last eight weeks, they had sent messages over the Selectric, trying to establish a connection with the other side. They had never received a reply. While Lincoln had been the pessimist, trying to talk Olivia out of her plan to send Henry over to the alternate universe, she had been ever the optimist, clinging to the hope that once they were ready to ask Peter for help, he would come. After all, hope was all she had.

Olivia was pulled out of her revery rather violently when a hand grabbed her by her upper arm and yanked her around the corner into the shadows of an old redbrick. One arm immediately wrapped around Henry's tiny body for protection while her hand reached for the gun strapped to her leg. Within a second, her fingers were closing around the cold metal, pointing the gun at the face of the man who had pulled her into the back alley.

"Whoa, Liv!" Lincoln called, raising his hands up in defense while Henry let out a startled wail.

"Fuck, Linc, you know better than to scare me like that!" She pushed the gun back into her holster, then placed a quick kiss on top of her son's head to soothe him, "You're not supposed to be here. What happened?"

"Got a message from Charlie. Class one event down at Battery Park. Same strange readings as the Opera House last year."

Olivia took in a deep breath, "They're here."

"It would seem so," Lincoln reached out and gently cupped the back of Henry's head with his hand, "Look, Liv, we can still call this off."

"No," she answered him rather quickly, "I'm not letting the Secretary use my son as a guinea pig for God knows what."

Lincoln just shrugged his shoulders at her, "We're way past the point of no return anyway."

Olivia undid the top buckles of Henry's carrier, removing the straps completely. The sling fell to her feet a moment later, and Henry was now freely cradled in his mother's arms. It seemed like an eternity to her that she held the baby protectively against her chest, trying to shield him from all the wrong in the world outside. From the day he was born, it was all she had ever wanted – protect her baby boy from all the evil around them. Change the world into a better place, just for him. In reality, she knew that all it had ever been was wishful thinking. It only lasted a few seconds before Lincoln's hands closed around the small body and took Henry from her arms.

"9PM Trinity Cemetery. In case you change your mind," he told her, but she just waved her hand at him, "Please just go."

"9PM, Liv," he reminded her but Olivia seemed not to notice. She placed one last kiss on the top of her son's head and whispered a short "I love you, nugget" before she turned and walked away, leaving Lincoln and Henry behind.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 9  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Happy Easter everyone :) My Easter gift for you? A new chapter, yay! Hope you enjoy it! If you do, drop me a note, as a review or in private. I'm always just a PM away :)

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><p>.<p>

They had made their way to the carousel at Forest Park shortly after nine. For half an hour, Peter and Olivia combed through the immediate vicinity of their meeting point, making sure that even though Henry had corroborated the story they had pieced together on their own, they were not walking right into a trap. But with the dead trees and undergrowth surrounding the old and decaying carousel in an area of the park that was sitting right next to a huge Amber restriction area, there wasn't much space for anyone to hide. Neither for Walternate's men, nor for them.

Cover was sparse, so whoever had chosen that place as their meeting point had to have known that it was so far off the radar and outside of any area frequented by people that it was safe to meet. Otherwise it would have been a rather stupid idea to meet in such a wide open space.

The feeling was still nagging at them both though that this was nothing but a trap. The nearer it got to 10PM, the slower the minutes seemed to tick by while they sat waiting halfway hidden behind a wooden horse drawn sleigh on the carousel. Peter nervously fidgeted with the gun in his hands, constantly double checking that the clip was full and working perfectly. Olivia sat next to him, legs drawn up, letting her rest her head on her knees as she watched him dully while her fingers were tightly clutching her own gun.

The last rays of sun were reflecting off the big Amber dome that encased the old Visitor Information Building behind them, casting the spot where they sat hidden in a rather orange glow. They both knew that it was going to be dark within the next few minutes, and once that was happened, their last advantage - light - completely gone.

The faint sound of a car broke them both out of their almost dazed like state and caused both their heads to pop up in the direction of the sound behind them. A black SUV pulled into what once obviously had been used as a parking lot. The car's headlights were off as it came to a complete stop not far from the old rusty posts that separated the lot from the park area.

For a moment, Peter and Olivia just sat crouched behind the sleigh, their guns drawn, waiting for what was about to happen. From where they were hiding, they could easily make an exit through the back of the carousel and then, once in wide open space, attempt to cross back over if things threatened to go South. But for now, everything lay silent around as them as the driver's door of the SUV was pulled open and a man with short light brown hair, dressed in black, exited the car. He rounded the car and stopped in front of the hood, observing his surroundings.

Still holding tightly onto her gun, Olivia moved to the side of the sleigh, trying to get a better view which caused Peter to reach out for her arm and hold her back. She quickly shot him a glance over her shoulder, then he let go off her and allowed her to move over to be only partially hidden by one of the wooden horses in front of the sleigh.

The man in front of the car obviously seemed to have noticed the movement inside the carousel as his head immediately turned into their direction. Olivia waved two fingers in the air, indicating for Peter that she was going to leave cover. There was a mixture of shock and worry on Peter's face when he watched her stand up, gun dropped to her side.

"Lincoln," she called out loud, which caused the man at the car to raise his arm and wave at her before he turned to the passenger side of the car.

"Olivia," Peter started, still crouching behind the sleigh, but she cut him off immediately, "He's a good guy, Peter."

Slowly, she left the safe cover of the carousel, walking into the exposed, open space outside. Cautiously, Peter followed her, his gun drawn and aimed at Lincoln. About halfway across the open space, they stopped just as Lincoln closed the passenger door, a wrapped bundle now in his arms. One arm raised in defense, he slowly approached them.

"Olivia Dunham," he said as he stopped right opposite them, clutching something wrapped in a blanket tightly to his chest, "Definitely can't see a difference. Except for the hair. Takes a little getting used to."

"Always the charmer," Olivia replied, "What's going on here? Why are we here?"

"Because of him."

Lincoln slowly pulled the top of the blanket down, exposing the blonde hair of a baby who slept soundly against his shoulder. When the boy flinched slightly, Lincoln reached up and placed his hand on top of his head, soothing him with gentle strokes.

Both Peter and Olivia's gaze immediately fixed on the small child that Lincoln Lee held so protectively in his arms. He wasn't the newborn that both of them had expected, but rather already a baby of about half a year old. Something was wrong here, something didn't fit.

"The Secretary has made him his personal pet project. Liv has always been a bit suspicious because he only wanted to see him at Liberty Island and never anywhere else. First, it was just little changes in his behavior whenever she picked him up from a visit. Then she discovered rashes all over his body and needle marks on the soles of his feet. His pediatrician found some unknown substance in his bloodstream. God knows what they've been doing to him. He's not safe here."

"Hang on a sec," Peter cut in, his fingers tightly curled around his gun, ready to use it at any moment if needed, "If you wanna take us for fools, you're out of luck, buddy. That kid is how old, five months? Six months? You should have been more careful. The timeline doesn't fit."

"Liv went through an accelerated pregnancy. One day she wasn't even showing, the next she'd been kidnapped and had a kid by the end of the day. I know it's hard to understand, but he is your son. You can get all the tests done that you want, they'll all say the same thing. He's got your DNA. Which is why he's in danger if he stays over here any longer."

Despite Lincoln's attempt to calm the fussy baby down, the boy, who had finally awoken, was struggling to twist his head around to see who exactly was causing all the commotion. A moment later, a pair of big blue eyes were staring back first at Peter before they moved and fixed on Olivia.

The way the baby looked at her, eyes shining brightly in the evening light, caused Olivia to smile, "What's his name?"

"Henry," Lincoln replied while he turned the baby slightly so he had a better view of the pair standing opposite them.

"Hey," Olivia tapped the baby's nose with her finger, then tickled him under his chin which resulted in baby giggles from Henry, "you're a sweet little boy, aren't you?"

"You gotta take him," Lincoln shifted the baby from his arms and held him out for Olivia to take, "As long as he is somewhere over here, the Secretary will find him and he will use him for whatever he needs him for, no questions asked. You need to take him back with you. You need to keep him safe."

The baby boy hung midair between them which obviously seemed to be much to his liking when he started to giggle with delight. He flashed Olivia a toothless grin while his feet wiggled in each and every direction.

"Where's his mother?" Peter asked, ignoring the baby that was so happily dangling from Lincoln's grip, "Does she know about all this?"

"She didn't want to be here. She already said goodbye to him earlier," Lincoln noticed that he wasn't getting anywhere, "Look, Henry needs to be safe and he can't be safe over here. You can take him with you to your universe safely but the Secretary won't be able to bring him back with our technology. He'll be safe over there. Please."

Olivia quickly looked over to Peter before she reached over and took the baby, who was now getting slightly impatient and had extended his arms in her direction, from Lincoln's arms. Henry went willingly, immediately placing his head down on her shoulder and snuggling close to her.

"Please take good care of him," Lincoln reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out an envelope which he handed over to Peter, "From Liv."

The awkward moment was ended suddenly when a spotlight from above was turned on, casting them in a bright white light. They all looked up and found a helicopter hovering above them in the air. The Secretary had found them.

"Shit! He shouldn't have been able to find us," Lincoln quickly ruffled Henry's hair one last time, "Go towards the light rail. There's an underpass. It's protected from above so whatever you need to do to cross back over, do it there. I'll try to buy you a few minutes. Now run."

Fidgeting with his earpiece and barking out orders into the darkness, Lincoln turned and raced back to his car, leaving Peter, Olivia and the baby standing in the spotlight. For what seemed like an eternity, Peter just stared at the little boy that Olivia cradled in her arms protectively until she turned away from him and just ran. The light followed them wherever they ran until they reached the lightrail a few minutes later.

They both came to an immediate stop, breathing heavily. Henry, startled by all the sudden commotion and movement, had started to cry which, by now, had turned into loud wailing. Olivia tried to soothe him the best she could but she knew that if she was to cross them back over, she would have to focus and concentrate on that instead of Henry.

Silently, she pressed the baby against Peter's chest. At first, he just shook his head at her, not willing to take the boy but he knew he had no choice. Reluctantly, his arms wrapped around the small body, taking him completely from Olivia. For the first time ever, he held his son in his arms. He couldn't linger much in the moment though as they both heard the sound of the chopper touching ground not far from where they were.

Olivia reached for Peter's hand, their fingers intertwining tightly before she closed her eyes and lowered her head to the ground. She was doing what she had done before. Concentrate and think. Concentrate and think. Her body started to tingle again, with such an intensity that she had never felt before. Concentrate and think. Concentrate and think. The prickling sensation inside her was intense, as if a thousand needles were being thrust into her body but she couldn't stop. Concentrate and think. Concentrate and think.

And then the loud sounds of the chopper behind them were gone and the night lay around them in silence. Olivia opened her eyes, seeing Peter in front of her, holding on protectively to Henry who was still wailing loudly.

And then everything around her went black.

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><p>.<p>

**Author's Note #2:** So that's it for the Altverse. I've had a few people ask for more Over There stuff. Truth is - I thought about writing a companion piece to this one solely dealing with the Altverse. But thruth is also that I think I just can't channel Over There as well as Over Here. Fauxlivia is just way out of my league XD Maybe I'll enlist some help (if you are looking for a job as a co-writer, applications are open LOL).


	10. Chapter 10

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 10  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Every author craves feedback! ;)

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><p>.<p>

In all his life, Peter had never felt so lost. Here he was, standing in the middle of a busy hospital hallway, and all he could do was wait. Forty minutes since Olivia had blacked out at Forest Park. Thirty since she had shortly regained consciousness in the ambulance, only to reach out for his hand and hold on to it tightly before she had passed out again. Twentyfive minutes since they had reached the hospital and they had brought her to the ER. And twenty minutes since they had thrown him out of the exam room.

Twenty minutes since he had last seen Olivia, lying unconsciously on a gurney. She had looked so still, so motionless, as if all life had been drained from her. Her face was ashen, her skin sweaty, her touch eerily cold. He had seen her like this before. Unconscious in a hospital bed and noisy machines attached to her, monitoring just how little life was left inside her.

It had been brutal to see her like that the first time, not knowing when or even if she would ever wake up. Back then, he had vowed to himself that he would make sure that something like that would never happen again. He had vowed that he would always be there for her, would always protect her, no matter the cost. Yet here he was again, in a hospital, helplessly waiting for any news on her condition. Once again, he had failed.

"Mr. Bishop?"

Peter turned to his side and found a middle-aged nurse standing next to him. She was smiling at him warmly, holding out an arm towards an open door further down the corridor. The way she carried herself, her demeanor and the way she looked at him, she seemed to offer the one thing he needed right that very moment: someone who cared.

"There's a couch in the waiting room that I hear is very comfy. You and your baby look like you could use a break while you wait for news on your girlfriend."

Peter's eyes first fell on the crying baby in his arms, before he nodded at the nurse silently which was answered by an even broader smile on her face, "Boy or girl?"

"A boy."

Peter's reply was curt while he still held his screaming son his arms, pressed tightly against his chest. He had all but forgotten about that tiny body he was holding on to so tightly, the screaming and wailing nothing but a background noise that had blended in with the rest of the commotion around him which he had so skillfully blocked out from his mind the moment they had entered the hospital. His mind had been so fixed on Olivia and her well-being that Henry, that little boy in his arms, his little boy, had almost sunken into oblivion.

"Do you want me to take him? It would give you a little time to breathe."

But Peter didn't want to surrender the precious cargo that he was just reminded of. It was odd, he thought, not wanting to let go of a child that essentially was a stranger to him, but maybe it was just like people always said: when you actually see your kid, you'll come around eventually. You'll always want to love and protect them. Now, looking down at that screaming little boy who stared up at him through his tears, an occasional hiccup erupting from his lips, he knew that one thing was true. Even though he wasn't quite sure yet what exactly he was feeling for Henry, he knew that he would always protect this boy from anything evil in the world.

"Would there be anyone available to check him out?" he finally croaked out, his voice hoarse and dry. He shifted the baby in his arms, one hand gently rubbing Henry's back in circles while his lips were brushing tenderly against his forehead in a desperate attempt to calm him.

"Is there anything wrong with him?"

"I was told he had some rashes on his body. I just want to make sure he's all right."

There was that warm smile again on the nurse's face, that smile that seemed to be reassuring him that everything was going to be all right, "I'm pretty sure I can find someone to have a look at that little darling. In the meantime, why don't you have a seat in the waiting room? It's a lot less noisy and busy in there."

Peter just nodded at her silently while his feet carried him rather involuntarily towards the waiting room. The room was empty at this time of the night which he was rather thankful for. A moment in silence, a moment to breathe, without anyone around he needed to worry about. The old couch creaked loudly under his weight as he sat down, his feet coming to rest on the small table in the middle of the room that lay stacked with old magazines.

Then he shifted Henry from where he was resting against his shoulder. His strong, but shaking hands were holding him in an upright position as he sat him down in his lap. Henry was still wailing loudly, eyes squeezed shut, fingers curled tightly into fists.

"Hey buddy," Peter croaked out while his fingers gently stroked the boy's head, and he felt the tiny body finally relax in his lap, but just a little. For a moment, Henry opened his eyes and looked up at him, tears still streaming from his eyes. His bottom lip was stuck out and quivering as he sniffed and whimpered until a tiny hiccup interrupted the brief moment of calmness and the baby broke out in cries again.

"I know you want your mom, buddy, I know."

Peter lifted the baby back up and placed him in the crook of his arm, cradling him gently in what he hoped was a lulling position. He didn't know much when it came to babies, and whatever little he knew, wasn't doing him any good right now. It was moments like these when he was reminded again just how much he actually relied on Olivia in situations when he just didn't know how to go on. She always knew just the right thing to say or do.

"My mom," he began to tell his son while he tenderly rocked him in his arms, "my real mom – she used to sing to me when I was little. It's one of the few things I still remember of her."

At the sound of the soothing voice, Henry opened his teary eyes again and stared up at Peter. Little fingers reached for Peter's shirt and clawed at it, and the baby wriggled in his father's arms, trying to turn towards his chest for comfort while a mixture of hiccups and whimpers erupted from his lips.

"You want me to sing for you?" Peter chuckled lightly at the sudden change in Henry's behavior, "I'm not a good singer, you know. It'll probably make you just cry even more if you hear me sing."

He drew the boy closer to him, one hand gently cupping the back of his head as he held him close to his body. The baby was slowly quieting, having exhausted himself from his constant crying and screaming.

"There's this song my mom always used to sing to me. It was my bath time song," Peter knew that Henry most probably wasn't understanding one word of what he was telling him, but if there was one thing that always helped him cope, it was talking – even if the person he was talking to was just a six month old baby. "I hated water when I was little. So my mom bought me this plastic submarine. It was bright yellow and the most hideous thing you've ever seen. Whenever I needed to take a bath, we'd pretend we lived in that submarine and sing our song."

A loud hiccup echoed through the empty waiting room which not only startled Peter but also Henry himself, and the little boy started his wailing again.

"In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea," Peter sang to him softly, "And he told us of his life, in the land of submarines."

Henry's big round blue eyes once again focused on his father, enchanted by the soothing sounds coming from him. He snuggled closer to Peter's chest, making himself as comfortable as he could get. Having noticed that his singing voice seemed to have a rather calming effect on his son after all, he continued to sing, "So we sailed on to the sun, till we found the sea green. And we lived beneath the waves, in our yellow submarine. We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine..."

The baby's whining and whimpering slowly died down when he noticed that he was safe and protected in Peter's arms. There was a big yawn coming from Henry, followed by another hiccup which again, startled him, but didn't cause him to cry.

"Not the best lullaby, huh?" Peter's fingers trailed over the boy's forehead and down his cheek before his whole hand came to rest on the baby's belly, softly rubbing it in circles to lull him to sleep, "Your mom probably sang you one every night, didn't she? I'm sorry I don't really know any. Maybe..."

For a moment, he just looked at his son that lay so comfortable in his arms. Eyes half closed, he had finally quieted down completely, and it was only a matter of minutes before Henry would drift off to dreamland. So Peter started to hum, no song in particular, while he thought about a lullaby to sing his son to sleep. Oddly enough, the first thing that came to mind was an old jazz song that he hadn't thought of for years.

"Hey Henry," he started, and the boy's eyes immediately snapped open at the sound of his name, "I like jazz. How about you? You like Ella? Or old Frankie boy?"

Henry's response was another yawn while his eyes drifted close and then snapped open again just to slowly close once more only a few seconds later. A few stray whimpers were still escaping his lips but just like before, he soon quieted as Peter began to hum once more. Henry struggled with all his might to keep his eyes open, but sleep was just too overwhelming for the little boy. Another yawn followed before he drifted off into dreamland for good.

"You're just a little lamb who's lost in the woods," Peter continued his tune, a broad smile playing across his face, "You know you could always be good to the one who'll always watch over you."

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><p>.<p>

**AN2: **For anyone who's interested what songs I used - the first one was "Yellow Submarine" by the Beatles (I think most of you got that one ;) ). I used it as a thank you for my lovely, lovely, lovely betareader who is a huge Beatles fan. Plus - I LOVE the movie! Psychadelic dreamtime, ahoy! The second song I used is "Someone to watch over me", a song written by George and Ira Gershwin and performed by great singers like Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald. I fiddled with the lyrics a bit though so they fit for Peter and Henry.


	11. Chapter 11

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 11  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Sorry for the late update. I know I promised a chapter per week. My excuse? Work got in the way, had to plan a business trip halfway around the globe. Which means that I don't think there'll be another update next week cause I'll be in Honolulu for a week working. We'll see :) Until then, enjoy this chapter! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story so far. I really love hearing from you guys and appreciate every single comment I get. I just wich there was a way to thank you all personally, but alas, doesn't have that option in their comment setup, bummer!

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><p>.<p>

When Olivia came to, she found herself lying in a hospital bed. Her body was aching all over, and the nauseating feeling was rather overwhelming. She blinked a few times, her eyes trying to adjust to the dim light in the room, when she noticed her fingers were curled tightly around someone's hand. Her eyes scanned the room immediately, finding a dark figure sitting next to her bed. Peter. She let out a breath of relief when he moved closer to the bed and came fully into her view, his lips forming a warm smile.

"Hey," he greeted her, carefully pushing a strand of her blonde hair out of her face.

"Hey," she rewarded him with a smile of her own before her eyes darted around the room and found her object of desire. Henry slept peacefully in a small bassinet next to her bed.

"Is he okay?" she asked, turning her attention back to Peter.

"They ran a few tests on him, but the results won't come back until tomorrow. He looks to be perfectly healthy though."

There was an awkward moment of silence, and Peter turned his gaze away from her, looking at their locked hands. It took him a second to form the question that was weighing so heavily on his mind, that he had been dying to ask her since the minute the doctor had told him.

"You knew, didn't you?"

He didn't look at her when he asked her, fixing his gaze on the spot on the middle of the blanket where both their hands lay intertwined. He felt her chest rise and fall as she inhaled deeply, giving him all the answer he needed to know.

"How long?"

He turned his attention back to her, finding her looking at him with a mixture of shock and confusion. At first, she just stared at him blankly, searching for a way to answer his question. And then she did what she always did: she shrugged her shoulders, the corners of her mouth twitched into a weird lopsided smile, eyebrows drawn tightly together and eyes pleading with him to understand.

"A few days," came her slow reply as she squeezed his hand tightly, "I've been meaning to talk to you about it but when all this went down, I knew it just wasn't the right time."

"Olivia," his voice broke off mid-sentence, and he tried to form his words, "I'd never have allowed you to cross us over if I had known."

"I know. Which is why I didn't tell you," she paused shortly, observing him. She couldn't quite read his expression. His eyes were filled with anger, guilt, but also with confusion, shock, and relief. She had never seen him send her so many mixed signals before, so she had to ask, "Did I..."

He cut her off almost instantly, "You're fine. Both of you."

Suddenly, there was the smile on his face again, the side of his lips curling upwards, bringing the glimmer and delight back into his eyes as he continued to talk, "Your body shut down, protecting the baby. The doctor said it's a natural reflex."

"I'm sorry," she offered him a weak apology, hoping that for once, it would be enough.

"Your going ahead seemed so careless... considering..." he said as he let go off her hand and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Your son needed help," came her reply while she tried to meet his gaze which he tried to avoid on purpose.

"It could have been a trap."

"But it wasn't," she looked over at the little baby boy who still slept peacefully in the bassinet, "God knows what Walternate would be doing with him now if we hadn't crossed over and gotten him."

"You didn't risk only your life, Olivia. You also risked our baby's life. All the things that could have gone wrong!"

The accusation hung between them, and all Olivia could do was shrug her shoulders at him awkwardly one more time. He was right, she'd been careless. But she had weighed her options carefully and had made a decision that hadn't been as easy as it may have sounded to Peter. Her intention had never been to risk her own life, or her baby's. But with the knowledge that there was a boy in danger somewhere, Peter's son, all she could was cling to the one thing that had kept her going for a long time now. Hope. Hope that everything was going to be all right.

"I had to make a decision," she finally broke the silence between them, "I'd do anything to make sure that my family is safe and out of danger. Henry is your son. He is your family. And you are mine. I didn't take all of this lightly. It was difficult enough to wrap my head around the possibility that I had managed to get myself pregnant during a time when the world around us is falling apart and we don't know how to stop it. And just when I had worked through all that and was ready to tell you, there came that message from the other side. Do you have any idea how hard it was to think straight and not just walk away from all this? I know you, Peter. I know that if I had told you, we never would have gone for Henry. And I couldn't risk that. So I made a decision. Try to help your son, but also make sure that our baby is safe. I never would have done all this if I hadn't been sure that I could keep myself and our baby safe."

Peter's head snapped in her direction, "But look what happened, Olivia, and now you're in hospital!"

"I don't know what else I can tell you."

He inhaled sharply while his hand blindly searched for hers, fingers intertwining immediately, "This is something we should have decided together. You and I, together, as a family."

Olivia just looked at him, her eyes pleading with him to understand, "I saw how hard it was for you to make a decision. If you had known I was pregnant, it would have made things just more complicated than they already were. I didn't want you to have to choose one child over the other."

Peter just shook his head, "And if I had done just that? If I had decided to stay on the other side for Henry, would you have just let me go without saying a word?"

"I don't know."

"And if you had lost the baby?"

"I don't know, Peter!" she repeated exasperated, "I know I didn't think this through but I knew your son needed help. Isn't that enough?"

He sighed, "Is that why you were so insistent that this wasn't a trap? That Henry really existed? Because you are pregnant?"

"Maybe?" she shrugged her shoulders, "Walter once said that everything that happens in one universe results in a counteraction in the other."

"But that reaction doesn't necessarily have to be the exact same event, you know that."

"But it could be. If it wasn't, our worlds wouldn't be so similar and we wouldn't have doppelgangers. I was born in 79, my alternate was born in 81. She was the counteraction to my existence."

"And now you think your pregnancy is the reaction to hers?"

Again, Olivia just shrugged her shoulders at him. When she had thought about it before, it had all sounded so plausible. But now that she had actually said it out loud, she had to admit that it rather sounded like one of Walter's insane theories that was usually proven wrong.

"Maybe I've been hanging out too much with Walter lately," she finally said.

"C'mon," Peter waved his hand at her as he got up from his chair, "scoot over."

Olivia did as Peter asked, letting him slip into bed with her. Her head came to rest against his shoulder, and she immediately found herself wrapped in his arms.

"The nurses are not gonna like this," she muttered making herself comfortable in his embrace.

"Sue me."

For a while, they just lay quietly in the dimness of the room, both listening to the light snoring that came from Henry's bassinet and observing the slow rising and falling of the baby's chest. Occasionally, a loud snore would escape the boy's lips, causing him to twitch in his sleep but he would settle back down immediately without even waking up.

"I'm not angry with you," Peter started after a while, tightening his arms around Olivia and pulling her even closer to him, "Yesterday, all I wanted was to enjoy watching a movie on the couch with my girlfriend. Tonight, I'm suddenly the father of a six month old baby and my girlfriend is pregnant. Can life get anymore complicated?"

"Has it ever been _not _complicated?"

"I think when I was three and was playing in the backyard buck naked," he smirked.

Olivia couldn't help by laugh, "I would have loved to see that."

"Oh, I bet," he replied with a chuckle that died down only a second later, "I keep asking myself if I'm ready for this. To be a parent I mean."

"I keep asking myself the same thing," she turned to her side, catching a glimpse of Peter's serious expression that softened the moment he saw that reassuring smile on her face, "I guess we just have to try?"

"I guess we do."


	12. Chapter 12

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 12  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> So here is chapter 12, completing the first dozen! There's about half a dozen (meaning six ;) ) more chapters to until the end, and I dearly promise they'll come one per week from now on. Screw real life! Who needs real life! XD I'll also post another chapter of Her Brother's Keeper later today, so look out for that as well. As usual, if you liked this (or not), don't hesitate to let me know. I'm always open for any kind of constructive criticism!

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><p>.<p>

Olivia sat on the couch in her apartment, elbows resting on her knees while her hands, fingers entwined, rested against her lips. Opposite her, on the small coffee table that stood in the middle of her living room, sat Henry, strapped into a newly bought baby carrier. He was happily clapping his hands, wriggling his feet, and babbling away, his eyes always fixed on the woman in the room that he perceived to be his mother.

Occasionally, he would reward her with a bright, toothless grin which was always followed by his tiny arms flying into her direction. She would always answer him with a weak smile of her own, tickling his belly which would cause him to burst into a fit of laughter. But soon, the laughter would subside and once again, he would look at her with big blue eyes, a charming smile, and his outstretched arms, a sign he wanted to be picked up. She just couldn't bring herself to pick up the little boy though.

The very first moment she'd laid eyes on Henry in Lincoln's arms and watched him reluctantly peek over the edge of the blanket he had been wrapped in, she had known one thing. That little boy was Peter's son. Even in the dim light of the night she had been able to see his baby blue eyes shine back at her, a pair of eyes she had looked into so often for the last three years.

And then came the smile, those tiny lips curled into such a wide and happy smile. A smile she had known for much longer. A smile that was very much like her own. And it was this same smile that was now greeting her whenever she looked at Henry, that cheerful little boy that sat so patiently in his carrier on her coffee table, wanting nothing but to be picked up and feel his mother's protective arms close around him and hold him tight.

"Here."

Olivia's head snapped to her right and she found Peter standing next to her, a steaming bowl of soup in his hands that he carefully placed on the table next to Henry.

"A Bishop specialty. It should help you calm your stomach down."

She answered him with a half-smile, "Thank you. I'm not quite sure I can keep anything down right now though."

"You gotta eat something. Trust me, the soup's good."

The cushions on the couch shifted slightly when Peter sat down next to her. His eyes immediately fixed on his son who did everything to get Olivia's attention but wouldn't even glance in Peter's direction. With a soft tickle under his chin, he tried to get Henry to notice him as well but all the boy did was pause to give him a short stare and blow spit bubbles at him before he turned his head away, wiggling his arms towards Olivia.

"He's mistaking me for _her_," Olivia uttered, shaking her head slightly, "But I'm not his mother."

"You could be."

Her head shot towards Peter, her confused eyes fixing on him. He was looking at her with a sincerity that she hadn't seen in quite some time. What he had just said out loud was what she'd been thinking about since she had woken up in the hospital. Did she want to be a mother to Peter's son? Did she even have any other choice?

She loved Peter, more than she could imagine she would ever love someone. If she was sure of one thing in her life, it was that he was the man she wanted to spent the rest of her life with. But once again, things had gotten so completely out of hand.

It was never a question of not helping Peter's son. But she had to admit that she hadn't thought this all through. Because bringing Henry to this side would mean that he would be a part of Peter's life and thus, a part of hers. That was something she'd acknowledged from the beginning, but she had avoided the realization that she would have to play a part in Henry's life as well – and what that role was or could be, she wasn't even sure of.

Could she even be Henry's mother? Whenever she looked at that little boy, she not only saw Peter. She also saw her alternate. His mother. The woman who had once taken everything from her. And with that came the remembering of what she had done to Peter, what she had done to her. That part of her life that she wanted to forget about, that she never wanted to look back at – because it had broken her completely. And just looking at Henry brought all of that back. The desperation, the helplessness but also the hatred and the rage.

But then, she also saw herself in that little boy – and maybe that was what hurt the most. She looked right into a face that resembled her own, knowing fully well that this little boy was not her own son.

"I'm sorry, that came out all wrong," Peter finally broke the silence between them.

"It's fine, Peter. Don't worry," she told him, but he just shook his head at her.

"No, it's not. He could have been ours if I hadn't been such a dumbass."

Olivia just shrugged her shoulders at him, "But he's not. He's only yours."

"And that's what's wrong," he let out a sarcastic snort, "He isn't just mine. He's also the son of Olivia Dunham. In some fucked up, twisted way, he's your son as well."

Olivia took a deep breath, "He's here, and he's gonna stay. So we've got to deal with that, right? You and I, we have to figure out where to go from here. We've got to make this work somehow."

"The question is how are we gonna make this work."

"I honestly have no idea."

"Neither do I," Peter admitted, and for the first time that afternoon was rewarded with small giggles from Henry while he tickled the baby's belly.

"He's got your eyes."

"I guess that's pretty much the only thing he got from me," he replied, deliberately trying to avoid saying that he, too, had noticed that the bright, happy smile the baby boy had been displaying for most of the day was definitely something he had inherited from his mother. The more he looked at Henry, the more he noticed the little things that he loved about Olivia in him. The small wrinkles at the corner of his eyes when he smiled, the tiny crease above his nose when he did his unhappy face or the way he silently and intently observed a certain object that had caught his attention. All these little things – they all were absolutely, one hundred percent Olivia.

"He definitely snores just like you," Olivia broke him out of his thinking.

"I don't snore," he countered immediately, putting on his best playful 'now I'm really hurt' expression.

"How would you know? You're dead to the world when you snore."

Peter rolled his eyes at her, then turned serious again, "I think you should read this."

He reached behind him and pulled out a letter he had stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans. It was the brown envelope that Lincoln had given him the night before. It was the other Olivia's letter.

"I don't think it was only for me."

Then he reached for the carrier and picked up Henry who was pulling a face that he had already gotten to know as the poopy face. His son would need a new diaper soon. The baby went into his arms willingly, rewarding his father with the most innocent expression he could muster as Peter noticed the diaper's pungent odor.

"Oh good Lord, kid, what did you eat?" Peter exclaimed and scrunched his nose while he gently patted the baby's bottom, "Definitely a new diaper."

Olivia watched silently as Peter carried his son into the bedroom and placed him down on the bright yellow towel that lay over the dark brown comforter on the large king-sized bed. She had always known that Peter was good with kids, and while she had always imagined him to be a great father, she never would have thought he'd take to Henry so fast, especially not after all his reluctance at first to acknowledge that he had a son.

At the hospital, he had pestered the nurses with question after question, from what was the best formula to use, if they could show him how to change his diaper and how to bathe him to whether he needed to switch to a different detergent and how to baby proof the house. Since then, he had done it all. Changed diapers. Fed Henry his bottles. Dressed him in new clothes after he had spit out half his lunch. And Olivia was sure, come bedtime, he would give Henry his nightly bath.

She listened to the baby's happy giggles and Peter's mumbled cursing while he changed the poopy diaper for a little while longer before she turned her attention to the letter in her hands. She twisted the crumbled envelope with nervous fingers before she finally reached inside and pulled out a single sheet of white paper. There wasn't a lot written on it, just a few single words and short sentences.

_Henry Dunham  
>March 25th, 2011<br>6 pounds 4 ounces  
>19 inches<em>

_I'm sorry for everything. I never meant for any of this happen. Henry deserves a family. A mother and a father. Love him for who he is. Don't hate him for the mistakes I've made. None of what has happened is his fault. He's part Bishop and part Dunham. Please raise him like that. _


	13. Chapter 13

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 13  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Hugs and thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story so far. I really do appreciate every single comment I get. I wish there was a way to thank you all personally, but alas, FF doesn't have that option in their comment setup, bummer! But rest assured, I am really greatful for every single comment I have received so far and I hope you'll continue reading and commenting :)

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><p>.<p>

Olivia didn't know how much longer she could actually take this. It was 4AM in the morning, and she yet had to get even five minutes of sleep. Sleep deprivation never actually had been a problem for her. Not sleeping came with the job, it was something she had gotten used to years ago. She could go days without hardly any sleep, she'd always coped somehow.

What she couldn't cope with now though was the constant nausea that she was plaguing her ever since she'd been released from hospital two days ago. 'Morning sickness, my ass,' she thought to herself once more when her stomach started to revolt in full force and, for what felt like the millionth time that night, she had to throw up. Hanging over the toilet bowl, she dry heaved until her exhausted body finally let her spit out a pitiful amount of bitter stomach acid into the same toilet she'd been emptying her stomach into to for the last few hours. Every time she thought her stomach had settled down, that there wasn't anything left she could spit out, her body would prove her wrong.

Olivia looked completely wrung out when she sunk down on the floor next to the toilet, her face coming to rest against the bathroom wall. The coolness of the tiles soothed her body just enough to allow her to rest for a moment until the next bout of morning sickness would hit her again. She'd tried ginger ale and crackers, the empty bottle and pack now laying discarded just out of her reach. But all they had done was fill up her stomach and make the vomiting so much more vile.

At the hospital, after she had emptied her stomach into a trash can in her room because she couldn't make it to the bathroom in time, the doctor had suggested she take it easy for a few days to allow her body to adjust to the changes that came with the pregnancy. What he hadn't prepared her for though were the constant vomiting attacks she had to suffer from ever since. During the day, while her mind was occupied with other things, she was successful at keeping the urge to throw up at bay. But once the night came around and she allowed her exhausted body to rest, there was no controlling the nausea anymore.

Peter had checked in on her twice. First, he had been by her side within minutes after she had bolted from bed shortly after they had retreated for the night. He had held her while she'd emptied her stomach into the toilet bowl, gently holding her hair back and out of her face, telling her with hushed words that everything was going to be okay. She had sent him back to bed shortly after when she'd sat huddled on the floor, legs drawn up to her body, hugging them close to her. He hadn't left her willingly, but she had reassured him she was going to be fine and would join him in bed a moment later.

The second time, he had shown up at her side with a bottle of ginger ale and a pack of crackers. He had sat with her through two bouts of vomiting, holding her just like he had done before while she heaved and spat. Again, she had sent him back to bed, telling him that at least one of them deserved some sleep. He wouldn't leave her side though until she reminded him that someone needed to watch Henry, needed to make sure that the little boy would continue sleeping safely in her huge bed.

The coolness of ice cold water against her forehead made her eyes snap open. It took her a moment to focus in the darkness before she could make out Peter crouched down next to her, gently dabbing her face with a wet cloth. She must have dozed off for just a moment, not even noticing that he had come to join her in he bathroom.

"You haven't gotten any rest yet, have you?" he said as he dropped the cloth to his side.

There was that sincere look of concern on his face. Concern for her well-being and for that of their unborn child. His eyes were glimmering in the dark, shining at her with so much love she had only seen a handful of times before. He was her rock, her constant, the one person who would always catch her when she was falling. He was the one who stood by her side, no matter what. And that was one of the reasons why she loved him.

"Rachel made morning sickness sound like a walk in the park when she was pregnant with Ella. This?" She shifted into a sitting position, resting her head against the wall behind her, "This is excruciating."

"I think we should call the doctor. This can't be normal at all."

Olivia shook her head, "This is my body getting used to the pregnancy. Hormones on a rampage. I wasn't quite expecting the worst case scenario though."

"I wish there was something I could do to help."

"Just don't ever touch me again," she moaned when the nausea once again set in which caused a rather irritated look on Peter's face, "I'm sorry. I didn't... I'm sleep deprived, I'm nauseous and I feel like shit."

"You can't sit here in the bathroom the whole night though," Peter said as he rose to his feet and held out his hand for her to take, "You have to try and get some rest. C'mon."

Even before Olivia could object, baby cries filled the apartment. She closed her eyes and sighed. A fussy baby was something she didn't want or could deal with right now. Henry had been a rather easy baby since they had brought him home with them, always happy and smiling, not once really upset, even when he had a wet diaper or was hungry. Olivia attributed that to the fact that he had taken to her as if she really was his mother, the Olivia Dunham from the other side.

Her eyes closed, she listened to Peter shuffle out of the bathroom. She could only imagine what was happening in her bedroom right now. Peter would go to the little boy who lay crying in the middle of her king sized bed, pillows safely tucked all around him, would gather him into his arms and try to figure out what was wrong with him. He would sniff the diaper first, then he'd try the bottle and when all that wouldn't help, he'd rock him in his arms and try to soothe him. All while she sat on the bathroom floor, fighting her stomach's urge to turn itself inside out.

Right at this moment, she wasn't so sure anymore if she could do this. Pregnant, with a six month old baby to care for that wasn't even her own while trying to save the world. Each of those things on their own was hard enough already, how she was supposed to manage all three at once, she didn't know. She knew she could always rely on Peter, but she wasn't sure if that was even enough anymore. They had a hard time already balancing work and home. The nights and weekends they had to themselves were rare, something that wasn't going to change. How could they possibly fit not only one, but _two_ babies into their busy lives?

Henry's crying had turned into wailing by now, and Olivia knew that Peter wouldn't be successful in calming him down. It would take days, if not weeks, for Henry to get accustomed to his new surroundings and the new people in his life, and she was sure that she was the only one who could help him through that. So she lifted her aching body from the floor and staggered out of the bathroom and towards the bedroom.

Peter was standing at the far side of the room, behind the bed, holding the wailing baby against his bare chest while he rocked him back and forth. Henry was struggling against him, not wanting to be held – at least not by him. His tiny head was twitching from side to side as he searched for that one person that he was longing for. His mother.

But what Olivia wasn't prepared for, what she hadn't seen in months, was the way that Peter and Henry looked in the dim light of the bedroom. Her bottom lip started to quiver as she stared, transfixed on the two of them, tears forming in her eyes.

Father and son were engulfed in a white, shimmering light.

Peter caught the expression on her face, that look he had seen only a handful of times before. He knew exactly what she was seeing. And why. He made a turn towards her, but she just raised her hand in the air.

"I really wanted to do this. But I don't think I can."

"Olivia..."

"I'm sorry," was all Olivia said before her hand flew to her mouth and she ran back towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 14  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Mea culpa everyone for not updating in a while. I've been meaning to for the last couple weeks but when upgraded some functions, the login feature disappeared for me. Took me a while to figure out that it wasn't showing on any of my comps due to a firefox plugin. Aaaanyways, another new chapter from me today. There's a couple more chapters after this, then the story is finished. And now that I found the login again, I can regularly post again XD I hope you all enjoy what you read. Let me know if you do. And if you don't, let me know what you think I could do better.

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><p>.<p>

The apartment lay silent when Peter shuffled through the living room, rocking his fussy baby son in his arms while he tried to pack the small blue duffel bag that sat on the coffee table. Occasionally, his eyes would wander towards the bedroom as he kept check on a now sleeping Olivia. She had finally retreated to bed shortly after sunrise. Silently. Without any other kind of acknowledgment towards Peter, she had curled up under the sheets on her side of the bed – which was telling him that those last words she had said to him before she had bailed for the bathroom hadn't come merely from confusion and exhaustion alone.

He should have known that Olivia's constant "I'm fine, I can handle it" was just the hard, outer wall she always tried to put up. He'd seen her like this once before. She had tried so hard to convince him that she could deal, that she was strong enough to cope, but in the end, she had broken down right in front of him just like she had done last night. It had hurt him to see her so vulnerable, so lost and so much in pain, especially since he knew he was the reason for all that sorrow. The weeks and months that had followed had been agony, and he had vowed to himself that he would never put her through anything like that again. So he had made a decision – a decision which he hoped would be the best for all of them.

Low sounds of disapproval were coming from Henry who didn't seem to like to be carried in his father's arms at all. It had taken Peter over an hour to calm him down during the night, but he wasn't quite sure if the boy had just reached exhaustion by crying himself to sleep or if his constant singing and rocking had had any effect on the baby at all. Judging now, it probably had not been the latter.

Henry was chewing on his knuckles, drooling all over, while whining and fussing. When Peter noticed his bottom lip quivering and his eyes filling up, he knew that it would be only a matter of moments until the boy broke out in tears again and his cries would fill the whole apartment. So he quickly grabbed the baby carrier and darted towards the kitchen.

Placing the carrier down on the kitchen table, he started to hum for Henry, trying to calm his son as he sat him down in his seat. The last thing he wanted right now was for him to wake up Olivia. Almost instantly, the fussing began and a few whimpers escaped Henry's lips as he voiced his disapproval of his father's choice to confine him in his seat. His tiny hands flailed in the air and his feet waggled up and down as he squirmed and tried to wiggle his way out of the carrier's straps.

"I gave you your bottle, I've burped you, I've changed your diaper," Peter sighed as he placed his palm against the baby's stomach, gently rubbing it in circles to calm, "I've held you, I've rocked you, I even sang to you. I'm trying my best here, buddy, so can't you give your old man a little break here? I'm really, really trying."

Henry's whimpers had turned into sobs now which meant that his full fledged crying would soon echo through the still quiet apartment. If he wanted to get going without waking up Olivia, Peter had to hurry. Quickly, he pulled out the notepad and the pen that she kept in one of the kitchen drawers and scribbled down a short note, all while his son's whimpering gradually grew louder and louder.

He left the notepad sitting on the middle of the table for Olivia to see, then picked up Henry in his carrier which caused the baby to whine even louder. He first shushed him as he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder, then started to sing 'Yellow Submarine' for him while gathering his last few belongings from the desk.

All this didn't stop Henry though from letting out a short high pitched scream as he strained his tiny body against the straps that were keeping him tight in the carrier. In frustration, he slapped his little hands against the sides of his seat, while loudly voicing his disapproval. Peter prayed that all the commotion hadn't woken Olivia as he tiptoed towards the front door. He felt like a thief, sneaking out of the apartment while she slept, but he knew he needed to give her space. And the sooner he was getting his now loudly crying son out of there, the better.

He had just pulled the door open for a bit when he heard Olivia's voice behind him, "Where are you going?"

"Giving you a break," he answered, stopping halfway in and halfway out of the door when he turned back over his shoulder to look at her. What he saw almost broke his heart. Her face sweaty and ashen, her hair completely disheveled. She looked so fragile, so vulnerable, and so completely lost. He had pondered for a long time what to do, and the decision he had made hadn't been an easy one, but he hoped it would be the right one. For all of them. Olivia needed time to breathe. He needed time to think. Just by judging the look on her face, he knew that he needed to get away with Henry for awhile.

But within a second, her whole expression changed. She raised her eyebrows at him, then looked down at Henry who sat wailing his carrier. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands balled into fists, his whole body stiff against the straps as he let the whole building know that he did not want to sit in that carrier any longer.

Olivia sighed as she crossed the short distance toward father and son and quickly pushed the door shut behind Peter. Then she bent down, undid the straps of Henry's baby seat and gathered him into her arms with low, calming sounds. The boy quieted almost instantly, the wails toning down into occasional sobs and he settled in against Olivia's body, finding comfort as she cradled him.

"Olivia," Peter started but she immediately cut him off, "I've heard you rustling around the apartment."

"I was trying not to wake you but Henry didn't make it easy for me."

She moved the baby from one side to the other, rocking him gently back and forth to keep him calm, "So you really thought you could just sneak out of here like that?"

He shrugged his shoulders at her, "I was just trying to give you some time and space to think. This whole situation," he waved his hand between them, "isn't easy for either for us. We were glimmering last night, I saw the look in your eyes. And I don't think I need to tell you what that means."

Olivia remained silent and turned away from Peter, giving her whole attention to Henry who had taken to sobbing into the crook of her neck while his head rested against her shoulder. She gently caressed the back of his head, offering the boy the comfort from a mother that he was seeking. For a moment, she closed her eyes and tenderly brushed her lips against the baby's forehead. Peter wasn't completely right with what he had said. Yes, they had glimmered last night. But unlike all the other times when she had seen him glimmer, it hadn't vanished this time. When she had returned to bed earlier, she had seen the faint glimmer in the dim light even before she had reached the bedroom. And even now, father and son were still engulfed in that bright white light.

Olivia hoped that if she concentrated enough, if she held Henry in her arms to reassure herself that there was nothing to fear from this child, the glimmering would eventually cease. She didn't know how long she just stood there, feeling the baby's soft skin against her own, his shallow breathing against her neck. Rocking him back and forth with gentle, soothing sounds wasn't only to calm the crying boy, but also to calm herself. Except when she opened her eyes again, and found Henry looking at her with a pair of blue, teary eyes, the glimmer around him was just as blinding as before.

With a sigh, she moved him from his position against her shoulder and held him against her chest, his face right opposite hers. There was a faint smile on her face while she studied him, fingers tenderly traveling over the boy's nose until her palm came to rest on his puffy cheek. The more she looked at him, the more she began to see Peter in him and not just herself. Maybe with time, it would stop hurting to find little bits of herself in a boy that essentially wasn't hers.

Henry looked at her wide-eyed, his blue eyes glimmering like his father's as he let out a low sob. His lips twitched, and he donned her a short smile before his hand reached up and made it right into his mouth, silencing his sobbing and whimpering as he gently chewed on his knuckles again.

"You might want to stop at the drugstore on your way," she finally said and and knelt down to place Henry back in the carrier that Peter was still holding. "Get him a pacifier and some baby Orajel," she went on, this time actually looking up at the person she was talking to who was responding to her with a shrug.

"He's cutting a tooth, Peter," she replied before she turned back to Henry and fastened the straps of the carrier around him. Then she straightened, awkwardly tugging at her shirt that had baby drool all over its sleeve.

"Put the Orajel on the pacifier and let him suck. That helped Ella a lot more than putting it right on her gum. She always licked that off before it could work on the pain," she paused for a moment, studying Peter intently as if concentrating on his face only would block out the white shimmer around him, before she added, "You don't have to go."

"You know I do. You need rest and you're not gonna get any with a crying baby around. There's also a few things I need to figure out. On my own," Peter uttered as he once again reached for the doorknob to open the door, "I'll call you tonight, okay?"

She nodded at him first, then watched in silence as father and son left the apartment and the door closed behind them.


	15. Chapter 15

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 15  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note: <strong>What can I say... I was sucked into an alternate universe and forgot to update XD No, seriously, I got sucked into Mass Effect 3 a few weeks ago and just found my way back last night after I successfully defeated the Reapers (way to go, Shepard!). To make it up to you, this chapter is about double the length than what I usually put out. I also made a cover for this fic. Its tiny, tiny preview you can see at the top of this chapter. If you wanna see it bigger, I put it up in my deviantart account here: www . fav . me / d591yks (take out the spaces, FF-Net won't let me put in a direkt link).

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><p>.<p>

The sun was setting when she walked up the few steps to the front door of the Bishop house. She hesitated for a moment, hand up in the air, ready to knock. Peter had told her numerous times that she didn't need to knock anymore whenever she came around, that this was her home now as well. Yet, she always did. She didn't know why, but she still felt like she was an intruder in this house. Today more so than ever.

Inside, she knew, were Peter and his son. Henry. The little boy that wasn't hers. But in a strange way also was. She still had problems making head and tails of that. She had taken her time to think. About herself. About Peter. About Henry. About their baby. About what she wanted. About what she couldn't have.

In the past, she would have gone to Peter for help. To every "what should I do?" he had the right answer to give. Except that now, when she had needed someone at her side the most, to tell her that no matter her decision, it was going to be okay – he hadn't been there. He'd been here instead, cooped up inside the walls of the Bishop house, caring for his son. And maybe that was just the place where he was supposed to be.

Her hand still held high in the air, poised at the door, she never even got the chance to knock when the door suddenly swung open and a very cheery Walter appeared in the doorway.

"Olivia, dear," he started while he chewed on a piece of red licorice, "you don't want to stand out there the whole night, do you? Come on in!"

"Hello Walter," she greeted him, donning a half-hearted smile as she stepped inside the house. Her eyes immediately wandered through the open doorway into the living room, expecting to find Peter somewhere in there. But the room lay empty.

"If you are looking for Peter, he is upstairs with the B.A.B.Y."

The spelled out last word came out as a cautious hush, as if he was trying to test out the waters to see if mentioning Henry around Olivia was okay.

"You mean he is upstairs with Henry," Olivia stated matter-of-factly which immediately resulted in eager nods from Walter when he noticed that talking about Henry was not out of bounds, "Yes, yes. He needed a bath. The baby that is. Henry."

She found it impossible to suppress a small chuckle, "Thank you, Walter."

Olivia made her way up the stairs. Even before she reached the bathroom, she could hear Peter's voice echoing through the empty hallway, having a rather one-sided conversation with his son. She stopped in the doorway and leaned against the frame, arms crossed in front of her chest as she watched the amusing scene in front of her. Peter, with his back to her, soaked from head to waist, was trying to admonish the little boy who sat in the baby tub, happily splashing water all around him and squealing with delight.

"Damn, kid, can't you hold still for just a second so I can get the soap out of your hair?"

"No swearing in front of the baby," Olivia chuckled amused.

Peter quickly turned to look over his shoulder, a rather surprised look in his face when he saw her, then turned his attention back to his son in the tub.

"How long you've been standing there?"

"Long enough," she replied, watching Henry joyfully slap his hands on the water which immediately splashed in every direction, "Someone seems to like water."

"You should have seen last night's performance. I needed to mop the whole bathroom afterward."

He waved his hand towards the towel that lay over the sink, indicating for her to hand it to him. Olivia picked up the bright yellow baby towel, unfolded it, and held it up for Peter who had already lifted his son out of the tub. The boy kicked his feet in the air, trying to splash the water below him and let out a frustrated cry when he was carried away from the tub. His eyes lit up a moment later though when the fluffy towel was wrapped around his naked body and he found himself cradled securely in Olivia's arms.

"Hey little sailor," she cooed at him while she flipped the hood of the baby towel over his head to dry off his hair.

Henry rewarded her with a broad smile before he smacked his palms against her cheeks. Olivia took hold of one his hands immediately and brought it up to her lips, blowing raspberries against the boy's tiny palm, causing him to giggle hysterically.

"Can you keep him for a moment?" Peter asked as he slipped his wet shirt over his head, "I gotta get something dry to wear."

"We're fine, don't worry," she replied absentmindedly while she placed the baby down on the dresser that had been turned into a makeshift changing table.

A few minutes later, Henry was wearing a new diaper and Olivia was closing the snaps of his dark brown onesie that had 'thank you for noticing I'm awesome' written in red and yellow letters on the front. She had pondered for a moment whether she was going to dress Henry in that or not, but given that it was the only piece of clothing that lay on the table, she didn't have much of a choice. She definitely had to talk to Peter about appropriate clothing for his son because while initially it may have looked cute, it looked absolutely ridiculous on the boy.

When she picked him up, Henry first flashed her a big grin, showing off the top part of a front bottom tooth that had broken through before he let out a big yawn. He immediately laid down his head on her shoulder and snuggled close to her body, making himself as cozy as he could in her arms. At first, Olivia didn't want to surrender to the baby's comfortable fit in her arms, but when she felt Henry's lips pressed tenderly against the side of her neck and his warm breath tingling against her skin, she couldn't help it anymore. Henry felt so right in her arms, as if this was the only place where the boy was supposed to be.

"Let's go look for your daddy, I'm sure he has your bottle all ready," she cooed at the boy while her hand gently stroked the back of his head.

She found Peter downstairs in the kitchen just as the ping of the microwave announced that its contents were ready to be taken out. Silently, she watched as he got Henry's bottle out and tested the warm formula it contained against his wrist. When he turned, he noticed her for the first time, standing behind the kitchen counter while she swayed back and forth on her feet to lull Henry to sleep. She held his hand out towards him, wiggling her fingers to let him know that she wanted him to hand her the bottle. Without a word, he handed it to her as he leaned against the counter, watching just how comfortable his son had made himself in Olivia's arms.

"I tried to call you last night," he said just as Henry eagerly accepted the bottle Olivia was offering him with loud smacking sounds.

"I had the ringer off cause I wanted to get some sleep," she replied without even looking at him, her eyes glued at the little boy who so contently lay in her arms, "I was exhausted."

"Understandable." Peter paused for a moment, then added, "you look better."

"At least I'm not hanging over the toilet bowl 24/7 anymore. Nausea's still my constant companion though."

She quickly shifted Henry in her arms who was getting a bit fussy. He was trying to hold on to the bottle himself but couldn't quite reach it at the angle Olivia was holding it. She smiled down at the boy whose bright blue eyes flashed up at her with delight when his tiny fingers were finally able to grasp the bottle and curl around it tightly.

"How are the two of you managing?"

At last, she looked up at Peter, donning a faint smile that let him know once again just how much she cared. Not only about him, but also about Henry.

"Okay, I think," he answered with a quick shrug, "He likes my daytime entertainment program a lot, especially bath time as you have seen. My late night entertainment is a different matter though. Putting him to bed is rather...," he shook his hand from side to side, "and I'm not even talking about how he's terrorizing me during the night."

"He won't stop crying." Her statement wasn't as much a question as it was an observation that she had made during the last few days since they had brought Henry home.

"No. No matter what I try."

"It's still all new to him. You're new to him. It'll take some time but he'll adjust."

"I sure hope so."

There was an awkward moment of silence between them that was occasionally filled with low, smacking sounds from Henry who was eagerly sucking on the bottle as if he hadn't gotten anything to eat in days.

"You know," Olivia finally broke the silence, "I've been doing a lot of thinking the last couple of days. About you, about me, about how things are between us..."

"Liv," Peter started, but she cut him off immediately, "I just want you to listen for a moment, okay? When I'm done, you can say all you want."

She took a deep breath before she went on, "The last four years have been the most confusing, mind-boggling, painful and scary years of my whole life. But they've also been the most encouraging, interesting and - dare I even say - happiest years because I've had you. Even when I didn't have you. You've always been there for me and stood by my side, no matter what. You didn't ask questions, you didn't judge me. You just accepted me the way that I am. And then I fell in love with you. It took all my courage to tell you that I wanted you to come back with me because that was where you belonged. With me."

She sought eye contact with Peter, even if just for a second, before quickly turning in order not to lose herself in him like she always did when he looked at her with those deep blue eyes that held so much love for her. She couldn't lose the courage to tell him what she had to say. She needed to say it, and she needed to say it now.

"When I found out I was pregnant, I didn't know what to do. We'd just found a way for us to build our own little happiness in a world that's falling apart at the seams. We lived day to day. We never talked about what the next day would bring or the next week, the next month. We never talked where we wanted to take this relationship. Let alone about settling down with children. My pregnancy was an accident, and it happened at a time when I wasn't quite sure where we were headed as a couple. One night we spent at my place, one night we spent at yours, the next we're out in the field pretending we're nothing but partners and friends. I first needed to figure out where we stood before I could tell you about the baby. Then this one day, Astrid made an offhand comment at the lab, that we are our own master's fate, and that even impending doomsday can't stop her from living her life, that she wasn't thinking about consequences anymore. That she is just enjoying the moment the best she can because she doesn't want to regret having missed anything when doomsday comes. I figured she was right. I was gonna tell you that night that I didn't want to waste time anymore, that I wanted us and that I wanted our baby. And then he happened," her eyes fell on Henry in her arms who was tightly holding on to and happily enjoying the bottle that now was almost empty.

"My whole world came crashing down that night. Not because I found out you had fathered a child with my alternate. But because you said you didn't want to be a father like that. By accident. By mistake."

"I didn't mean..." he started but she cut him off again, shaking her head slightly, "it hurt, Peter. Whichever way you meant it. So I didn't tell you," she took a deep breath, trying to blink back a tear that had started to form in her eye, "all I wanted was a bit of normalcy in my life. To be able to go home at night to the man I love. To Be happy. Have a family of my own. I guess I was kidding myself. There's always going to be something that's just going to destroy everything. How could I have thought that there could be a happily ever after for us?"

A single tear was now trailing down her cheek while she was desperately tried to fight them back.

"God, damn these stupid hormones. I didn't want to cry."

Peter couldn't help but smile at her warmly as he reached out his hand and tenderly cupped her cheek. She turned into his touch immediately, for once just enjoying the little bit of comfort that he was offering her as his thumb trailed over her lips, stopping at that dimple just below her lower lip like he had done so many times before.

"You are no quitter, Olivia. You don't give up fighting. And neither do I. My mom always used to say that you just have to imagine how you want things to be. And then you can try and change them. We can have a normal life, Liv. We just have to make it happen."

He leaned forward just enough for their foreheads to touch. He could feel the warmth of her skin against his, her shallow breathing a tingling and beckoning sensation against his lips. For a fleeting second, all he wanted to do was claim her lips with his in a desperate attempt to forget about all she had just had told him, to forget that he had caused her so much pain, to forget that maybe she was right, that they never would have this little bit of normalcy in their lives that both of them sought so desperately. Instead, he quickly ran his tongue over the seam of his lips as he sought for the right words to tell her just what exactly was going on his mind and what made his heart ache.

"When I said I didn't want to be a father like that..." he started, but the words sounded not quite right for what he needed to tell her. So he stopped himself, collected his thoughts again for just a moment, and then just bluntly said, "I want to have children with you, Liv. You don't know how often I have imagined what our children might be like. A little blonde haired girl with pigtails that bob in the wind when she's running. Stubborn like her mother, but also as sensitive and as caring. I want to bounce her on my knees and read her stories and tuck her in at bedtime. I want to hold her when she's sick and comfort her and tell her it's going to be all better. I want to have all that with the woman I love, Olivia. And not with a woman who betrayed me and used me."

There was a faint smile that played at Olivia's lips when she looked up at him and found him giving her that sincere look of love and devotion he always donned when they were getting serious about certain things. He wasn't good with words when it came to telling her how exactly he was feeling about her, she knew that. A long time ago she had learned already to read his expression, his posture – and those were always telling her more than words ever could. That certain sparkle in his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth curled up, the start of the most tender smile there could ever be... it was his way of telling her just how much he loved her, that she was his one and only, his everything.

"I want to have this baby with you. Our baby," he whispered against her lips, "I'm an idiot that I haven't said that yet. I'm sorry."

"We're gonna have a baby," she said calmly, and he echoed her statement with a mix of laughter and joy in his voice, "We're gonna have a baby."


	16. Chapter 16

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Chapter:<strong> 16  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I'm really sorry I didn't get this out sooner. I was hoping to put the finishing touches on this while I was on vacation in Vancouver, but I woke up one morning and found this: goo . gl / uFjxU right behind my hotel and then my whole idea of actually writing fic went to hell LOL (take the spaces out of the link, it links to a pic which I think you really do wanna see, in case you were wondering) Please take that as my excuse for not finishing this early because my mind has been pretty much - elsewhere. But to make this short, here's the second to last chapter. It's also a little longer than the other ones to make up for the long wait. The last chapter is already written and edited and will follow next weekend.

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><p>.<p>

Peter slowly woke when the first rays of sunlight crept through the half-open curtains, beckoning for another hot summer day. He reached out to his side blindly, seeking out Olivia's comfort that he had so terribly missed the last couple of nights only to find the spot next to him empty. He crooked open one eye while his hand slipped over the still warm sheets next to him, telling him that it couldn't have been long that Olivia had left the bed. His vision still blurred, he could barely make out the time on the clock on the nightstand, but not exactly sure if the number before the :24 was supposed to be a five or a six.

Usually, he noticed when Olivia left the bed, even if it was in the middle of the night and he was truly dead to the world. It was as if he had a sixth sense when it came to her. Except that that sixth sense seemed to fail him terribly lately. He rolled over onto his side just to see Olivia entering the bedroom. She was clad in nothing but one of his dress shirts which barely reached her thighs. The top two buttons were left open, giving him a perfectly teasing view of what lay just beneath the light blue cotton material. Strands of her long blonde hair were falling loosely over her shoulders, cascading down like a waterfall which reminded him again just how much he loved it when she wore it down like that.

Without a word, she crawled back under the sheets with him, her hand immediately sneaking over his side to come to rest between his shoulder blades as she molded her body against his in a perfect fit. He could smell the faint odor of peppermint toothpaste when his nose found its way into the crook of her neck, nuzzling that certain spot just below her ear that he knew she enjoyed. Usually she never brushed her teeth until after breakfast, so what he was smelling now probably was the remnant of her attempt to rinse the vile taste of vomit out of her mouth.

"Morning sickness?" he mumbled sleepily, his fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of hair they had gotten hold of while his hand had lazily traveled over her shoulder.

"I'm fine, don't worry," she replied which caused Peter to snort,"That's becoming your catch phrase."

Olivia couldn't suppress the smile that was playing at the corners of her mouth. Not long ago, it would have bothered her to no end if someone would have been able to read her like Peter could. But with him, it was different. She knew she could be vulnerable with him, allow herself to be frightened and not be ashamed of it. He had taught her that there were times when it was okay for her to let her guard down, that she didn't need to be strong all the time, that it wasn't a sign of weakness when she admitted that she was scared.

He had once told her that "to be alive is to be vulnerable" to which she had just laughed at him and asked in which fortune cookie he had found that little bit of wisdom. When he had told her that his mother had written that in her very last letter to him, she had felt beyond stupid for having given him that snotty answer. In hindsight, she had to admit that Elizabeth Bishop had passed on a lot of wisdom to her son and that that was probably what had shaped Peter to be the man that he was.

"I could do without the puking..." she started to tell him just as the queasiness she'd been trying to keep at bay since throwing up not long ago grew so overly strong once again. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply before she buried her face in her pillow, waiting for the room to stop spinning around her and the nauseating feeling to pass. She could feel Peter run his hand over her back in little circles, trying to help her ride out that last wave of nausea.

"Better?" he asked, when he felt her body relax against his touch and her breathing evening out.

"For now," Olivia mumbled into her pillow, finding temporary relief in the cool cotton fabric that was tightly pressed against her face, "I'm looking forward to the day that I wake up without having to rush to the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. It's excruciating."

Peter's response to her was not the cocky remark she had expected from him when he whispered four little words into her ear, "Move in with me."

She turned her head to her side, blinking at him from under a veil of long blonde hair that had fallen over her face. That was surely something she had not expected to hear at 6:43 AM on a Saturday morning. Her lips curled into a faint smile, her eyes filling with just a hint of mischief when she pushed a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

"So you can get lucky every night?" she smirked in an attempt to dodge the seriousness of the question that he had just posed. At the crack of dawn and in a state of dizziness and nausea, she rather not wanted to make any life changing decisions.

"More so I can wake up next to the woman I love every morning," Peter replied, a hint of amusement in his voice that showed that he obviously had not expected her to answer him the way she did. The naughty grin that played at the corners of his mouth soon faded though and his expression turned serious, "I mean it, Liv. Move in with me. Make a home for us and our little family."

"Move in with you here?"

"The house is big enough for a bunch of kids. Granted, it needs some work here and there, plus we'd have to talk to Walter about moving out of the living room, but it's got potential." He studied her for a moment, trying to read her reaction to what he had just proposed but all he got was a blank stare. "If you'd rather find a new place, I'm sure we can..."

"No," Olivia cut him off immediately, trailing her fingers down the side of his face, stopping at the little patch of stubble right below the corner of his mouth, "You just caught me off guard. I've never..." she pondered for a moment, trying to find the right words for what she wanted to tell him before she said, "I've never been serious enough with anyone to even consider moving in together."

"Think about it?"

Even before her mind realized truly what she was doing, she blurted out a"I don't have to think about it" into the still of the room. For a fleet second, she cursed herself for giving him such a quick answer, especially since she had vowed to herself that she would no longer make any rush decisions concerning her relationship with Peter as it was no longer just herself she had to think about. But as soon as the realization hit that she had basically just agreed to move in with him, she also came to realize that this was just the next logical step for them to take. It just had come a lot sooner than she had expected.

So she brought her nose closer to his face, gently rubbing it against his as she whispered a short "yes" as the silence in the room was suddenly filled with the high pitched squeal of a baby.

Peter let out a short snort, "Not even 7 AM and the kid's up for the day."

"Dunhams like to greet the day early. You should know that by now," Olivia replied which caused a slightly puzzled look on Peter's face.

For the first time since they had brought Henry back from the other side, Olivia had referred to him not as his son but as a Dunham. She had not outright called him her son, but by referring to him as a Dunham, it sounded as if she had accepted that that little boy that lay babbling in a crib that stood at the foot of his bed was more than just a Bishop – that he was also part Dunham, part her.

Thinking back to how she had cared for Henry the night before, unwilling to hand him over after his last feeding of the night. Instead, she had sat on the couch with the baby snuggled against her chest, gently stroking his back while she hummed a slow tune for him, trying to lull him to sleep. Henry had spent what had felt like an eternity to Peter watching Olivia as she sang to him, desperately trying to keep his eyes open as he intently listened before sleep had finally truly overwhelmed him and he had succumbed to the constant beckoning of the dreamland that was awaiting him behind closed eyes.

Granted, they still had a long way to go, had to adjust to the changes the baby had brought to their daily lives, but for the first time since he had held that piece of paper in his hands that so violently had pulled away the earth beneath his feet and had sent him flying into a pitch black abyss of despair, he felt like they were going to be okay. That they could work their way through this and in the end, would be fine.

"Are you gonna get him or shall I?" Olivia broke him out of his thoughts and pulled him back into a reality where his ears were filled with the incoherent babbling of his baby son.

"I'll go," he replied just as he slipped out from under the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Even before he got up, his eyes fell on his son who lay in his crib belly down with his hands tightly grasping the bed sheet as he pulled himself up on his arms and looked around curiously.

"Kiddo, we really need to teach you what it means to be able to sleep in on a weekend," he cooed at Henry as he picked him up.

The little boy immediately resumed his incoherent babbling, occasionally donning a broad smile as he wiggled in his father's arms and made himself as comfortable as he could, snuggling close Peter's body.

"Maybe he was just trying to tell us he was lonely," Olivia said as she propped her head up on her elbow and watched father and son bathed in the first rays of sunlight that crept through the only half-closed blinds. For a second, the faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth disappeared when she noticed that golden halo again that both father and son had been bathed in just a couple nights ago. She blinked, then released the breath she had been holding when she realized that the faint glimmer had been nothing more than a reflection of the morning sun.

"You okay?" Peter asked immediately upon noticing the change in her expression.

"I'm fine," she replied almost instantly, "It's just... I'm still kinda getting used to seeing you with a baby in your arms."

"And I'm still getting used to actually having a kid," Peter sat down on his side of the bed, offering her a loving smile as he leaned back against the headboard. Henry in his arms had already made out Olivia and was now wriggling in his father's arms, trying to turn around towards the sound of her voice. When Peter finally moved him into a sitting position on his lap, a broad smile broke out on the boy's face when he finally was able to lay his eyes on Olivia. He contently leaned back against his father's chest and started babbling in full force, as if he was trying to tell her every little bit of a dream he had had the night before.

For the longest time, Peter and Olivia just listened today the incoherent babbling coming from the youngest Bishop. Occasionally, his arms would fly high into the air, gesturing wildly while at other times he would just point at something invisible nearby. Even at 6 months old, he was already exhibiting the Dunham habit of gesturing animatedly while talking, something that didn't go unnoticed by Peter and Olivia.

"I can't even imagine how desperate you have to be to give up something so precious, " Olivia said as she gently tickled Henry's belly which caused the boy to stop his story telling for a just a second and giggle with delight, "You had Walter check him out for anything unusual that wouldn't show in a regular check-up, right?"

"No cortexiphan in his system. I know you were worried about that."

"If Walternate didn't use cortexiphan on him, what did he do with him then?" She continued her tickle attack on the boy which soon turned into hysterical laughter, a single front bottom tooth now clearly visible as he broadly smiled at her, "Lincoln was genuinely worried, I could see that. It makes absolutely no sense to me why his mother would give him up if Walternate wasn't using that drug on him."

"I have a different theory," Peter started as he ran his hand over Henry's head, smoothing a few locks of unruly blonde hair that were sticking out in each and every direction, "I had Walter run a DNA test on him. Just to make sure."

"And?"

"He's definitely part Dunham, part Bishop, I can tell you that. However, here comes the strange thing. He's just a little bit too much a Bishop than he's supposed to be."

Olivia's eyebrows furrowed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know that every kid inherits 23 chromosomes from each parent, right? Henry here, however, has 25 chromosomes that Walter identified as belonging to me and only 21 he got from his mother."

"How's that possible?"

"Walter thinks that Walternate has been trying to duplicate the chromosomes Henry got from me."

Instinctively, Peter tightened the hold on his son, pulling him closer to him in attempt to shake off that sickening feeling that started to grow inside him as he thought about what exactly his real father had been doing to the baby. In his arms, he was holding a boy whose DNA read like a secret government project, and the outcome was yet to be determined.

"And do what?" Olivia's voice broke him out of his thoughts just as his mind was starting to wander the dangerous paths of 'what could have been' and 'what will be', "Turn him into a clone of you?"

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, "I don't think so. I rather think he's been trying to activate the machine using Henry instead of me. If I can operate it, so could probably any person who has the same subset of DNA the machine is finetuned to."

Olivia just shook her head, "Does Walter have any idea what those DNA changes are gonna do to him?"

"He can only speculate. Right now, Henry's absolutely healthy and apparently also very talkative," he leaned forward to look down at his babbling son who immediately tilted his head backwards when he noticed his father's attention and first rewarded him with a blank stare of confusion which almost instantly turned into a delightful bout of short giggles, "What are we gonna do with you when you can actually talk, hmm?"

Olivia just laughed as she reached out to take Henry from him and place him down on the bed next to her. The boy fussed for a moment, then rolled over from back to his side faster than anyone could look, coming to rest with his whole body tightly pressed against Olivia's, his head tugged away in the crook of her neck right under her chin.

"I guess someone was definitely very lonely in his bed," she cooed at the baby while she placed her hand against his back and gently nuzzled the top of his head, inhaling the sweet scent of his baby shampoo.

"Great, now I have to fight another guy for my girlfriend," Peter snorted with a hint of amusement in his voice as he slid down the mattress and lay down next to Olivia and his son. He propped his head up on his elbow and teasingly said, "I guess I have to reconsider if I really wanna keep that guy around if he's the one who gets to cuddle with my girlfriend instead of me."

"Now imagine what's gonna happen in a few months when we have yet another little one in the house," Olivia smirked, winking at him with her eyebrow, "You probably won't be able to lay a hand on me ever again."

"Definitely have to reconsider that whole 'being a daddy' thing."

"Most definitely have to reconsider," Olivia replied in the most serious tone she could muster, but still with a tiny hint of amusement in her voice.

"You questioning my parenting abilities already?"

"No. I'm just being a bit selfish," she whispered and quickly removed her hand from where it had been resting on Henry's back and placed it over his ear, "because I don't wanna miss out on all those hot nights of making out with this absolutely gorgeous guy that I've fallen in love with."

Peter couldn't help but laugh, "Dunham, you never cease to amaze me." He leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest against Olivia's, "I love you."

A wide smile spread across her face, "I love you, too."


	17. Epilogue

**Title:** Son of Men  
><strong>Epilogue<strong>  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary: <strong>When a message comes through the typewriter, it's going to turn everyone's life upside down.  
><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So here it is - the very last chapter of this fic. I'm kinda *sniff*sniff* that I'm actually putting an end to this, but alas, I think if I didn't, I'd go on forever XD That being said, I am already working on a "sequel" to this one which will fit in the little gap between chapter 16 and the epilogue. My working title currently is "vitas redux". I hope to actually get some down time from crazy work to put all my notes into some readable form and be able to put them online. Feel free to pester me if you want, sometimes I just need a little extra nudge to get something done after all. Until then - so long and thanks for all the fish! ;)

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><p>.<p>

When Olivia opened the front door and walked into the house, she found the Bishop household dark and silent. With a sigh, she dropped her keys on the small hallway table and took off her high heels. Even after all those years of fighting freaky monsters, insane professors and the end of the world, she still liked working at Fringe Division - except when work kept her at the office until after working hours. She had never been very fond of paperwork, not as a field agent, and especially not as the team leader, and when it kept her away from her family until well after sunset, she really started to loathe it.

Silently, she crept towards the back of the house where the kitchen lay only to be startled by Peter who emerged from the living room. Her whole face light up immediately at what she saw – her husband, clad in nothing but shorts and a tank top, carrying a little brown haired girl in his arms who was fussing and whining.

"How is she?" she asked and placed her hand against the toddler's back, gently rubbing it in small circles to calm her.

"The fever went down a bit but the ear infection still seems to bother her," Peter told her calmly while he rocked his daughter in his arms, trying to soothe her the best he could, "She hasn't gotten any rest all day."

"You're tired, baby girl, aren't you?"

Olivia placed a kiss against the girl's temple which prompted the toddler to stop her fussing for a moment and look at her wide eyed before a weak and tired smile appeared on her face.

"Let me get changed real quick and I'll take her off your hands."

"We're okay here. It's been a long day for you, you need some rest."

Olivia gave Peter a look from head to toe, "So do you by the looks of it. I'll be right back."

She kissed him quickly before she headed up the stairs and down the long hallway towards the master bedroom at the end. She had just shed her skirt and blouse, pulling out a shirt and a pair of shorts from the dresser when she heard tiny feet shuffling behind her and a low voice pipe up, "Mommy."

She turned over her shoulder to see Henry stand in the doorway. He was dragging his favorite stuffed toy - a pirate monkey - at his side and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"You should be in bed, monkey," Olivia replied while she put on her shorts, "You've got to go to school tomorrow."

She slipped the shirt over her head before she went over to the door and crouched down in front of the boy. Her hand immediately reached out, pushing a strand of hair out of Henry's forehead before she gently smoothed the tangled fuzz of blonde locks that made the boy quite uncanny a Bishop, "You had a bad dream?"

"You didn't read the good night story," Henry pouted, sticking out his lower lip like he always did when something did not go just the way he wanted.

"I'm sorry, monkey. Mommy had to work late today. But daddy read you the story, didn't he?"

"He doesn't do the voices right. And Ava was crying all the time."

"Let's get you back to bed," Olivia sighed as she picked up her son, "When have you gotten so heavy, hmmm?"

She made her way down the hallway towards the first room on the left. A dark blue rocket was painted on the white door, letting everyone know that this room was definitely a boy's room. The door made a low squeaking sound as she pushed it open, revealing a room that just had to be every boy's delight. It was like stepping into the universe when she entered. The different planets of the solar system were painted on the walls while stars and the moon were shining down on them from the ceiling, accompanied by airplanes and rockets that were hung from above.

Olivia made her way through all the toys that lay scattered on the floor, careful not to step on any and break them, until she finally reached the twin bed that stood on the far right of the room. As she sat down on the mattress, she noticed a small foot dangling out from under the comforter that lay seemingly carelessly discarded over the bed. A low chuckle escaped her when she pulled the blanket away to reveal her younger son sleeping soundly in Henry's bed.

"Noah didn't want to sleep alone," Henry told her as she shifted him into her lap.

At the sound of his name, Noah opened his eyes sleepily. Upon recognizing his mother, he smiled weakly before turning over and snuggling closer to her and his brother. A long time ago already, Peter and Olivia had given up on keeping each of the boys in their own beds. They'd put them down each in their own bed at night, but in the morning they'd find them both curled up under one blanket in bed together.

Ever since they were babies, Henry and Noah had been inseparable. Henry had always been hovering at his brother's side, wide alert that something was wrong even before Noah would let out a cry for his parents. Noah had taken his first steps at Henry's hand, the older toddler leading the younger. The first word to be heard from Henry had been 'Nono' while Noah's had been 'Ennie'. They still called each other that to this day.

At the beginning, it had been a bit scary to see just how close the boys had been, in pretty much almost everything. Both boys were the first born of Peter Bishop and Olivia Dunham, just one from the other side, the other from this. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smile that could melt your heart... the boys were the same in every regard. People often mistook them for twins, even with an age difference of a year.

Olivia gently shifted Noah towards the wall, then lifted Henry off her lap and placed him down in the bed next to her. The older boy immediately turned towards the younger, wrapping a protective arm around his little brother and pulling him close to his side.

"Can we finish the story?" Henry asked, pointing at the book that lay on the bedside table.

"Of course we can."

"With the funny voices," Noah added just as Olivia turned on the night lamp and reached for the book of mice and monsters that a long time ago already had become her children's favorite bedtime reading.

Olivia couldn't help but smile as she pulled the book into her lap and opened it. She had always thought of Peter as the storyteller of the family, the one who could even make the driest piece of science a fully colored and most of all interesting and invigorating fairytale. But both her sons had told her differently at a young age already, when all they had wanted was to sit with mommy and listen to her rendition of whatever book they had picked. While they accepted daddy's bedtime stories, mommy always had to come and read them another, even if it was in the middle of the night. It was as if the boys had a sixth sense that initially would allow them to fall asleep while Peter was reading them a story, but would keep them in a state on twilight until they both would hear their mother return and be able to claim their nightly bedtime storytelling.

Sitting on the bed, with both her sons curled up next to her, was something Olivia had started to cherish over the years. The short period of time each night that she was able to leave everything behind and just be a mom while she took her boys to far off places and experience the tales of knights and dragons, of kings and monsters, of heroes and princesses together with them.

And just like every night, by the time she finished a story with the words 'the end', both boys had fallen asleep in each other's arms. Silently, Olivia placed the book back on the table at her side and turned off the lamp, then got up from the bed as careful as possible as to not wake her sons.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite you," she whispered as she bent down to place a kiss first on top of Henry's head, then on top of Noah's before she made her way out of the boy's room, trying to make as little noise as possible while she maneuvered around the scattered toys on the floor that obviously had been forgotten to be put away for the night.

"Mommy," she heard Henry mumble into the pillows behind her just as she reached the door, hearing a faint "I love you" as she turned back over her shoulder to glance at the children one last time before she finally would have to bid them goodnight.

"I love you, too, my little monkeys," she whispered back into the darkness of the room, then closed the door behind her. For a moment, she stood facing the closed door, her fingers still lingering on the doorknob, before she turned with a sigh only to find Peter standing not two feet away from her in the dimly lit hallway. The little girl he was still carrying in his arms had stopped fussing and now lay slumped tiredly against his chest with her head resting in the crook of his neck.

"They give you grief again for not reading them their bedtime story?" he asked, a little hint of amusement in his voice as he knew exactly just how insistent their sons could be when it came to their nightly bedtime reading.

"Henry was complaining about you not using the right voices for the different characters," she told him earnestly while she reached out to take her daughter from him.

Peter grimaced as she shifted his daughter into her waiting arms, "Guess my wife spoiled the little monsters."

"Maybe she did," she replied with a smirk, as she started to rock her daughter gently back and forth in order to keep her in that state of serenity that she obviously had relented to after a day's worth of uneasiness and crying.

"There's some leftover from dinner. Want me to heat it up for you?"

"All I want right now is put my little girl to bed and have some mommy time with her."

She gave him a warm smile before she turned and headed for the master bedroom instead of her daughter's room that lay just to her right. Her hand was gently rubbing the toddler's back as she first placed a tender kiss against the girl's temple and then mumbled, "Is that stupid ear still troubling you, baby girl?"

"Big owie," Ava replied as she wrapped her arms tightly around her mother's neck, seeking the comfort that her mother's arms were offering her.

"Let's see if mommy can kiss it and make it all better."

The bedroom lay dark and silent when they entered, with a large king sized bed inviting mother and daughter to take their place for the night. Ava didn't leave her mother's arms willingly when Olivia put her down in the middle of the bed, fussing and whining until she settled down next to her and pulled her back into her arms.

"Mama, kiss kiss," the girl immediately said, indicating her ear with her finger.

Olivia smiled as she bent forward and placed a tender kiss against her daughter's ear. The toddler rewarded her with a faint smile before she snuggled her tiny body against her mother's, making herself as comfortable as she could. Laying in the darkness with Ava cuddled up next to her was something Olivia enjoyed immensely. Being so close to her daughter that she could feel her breath tingling against her skin, take in that sweet baby smell that her baby girl hadn't lost yet and just lose herself in a pair of blue of eyes that were so uncanny her father's... it was something she had never really experienced with her sons, with both of them being so close to each other that she never really got any mommy time with just one of them alone. If she had cuddled up with just one of them, the other had never been far off, demanding the same motherly attention from her. But with Ava, it had been different from the day she was born.

She still cherished the nights that she got to spend with her daughter after she had put her sons to bed. The tiny little moments that she was able to hold Ava in her arms and offer her full attention to just one of her children without being interrupted by another, demanding the same kind of devotion that very instance.

Olivia was broken out of her revery when the mattress dipped slightly and Peter slipped under the covers behind his daughter, causing the little girl to moan when her tiny body was rattled slightly by the mattress's movements. She quieted immediately though when Olivia's arms tightened around her just the moment that both mother and daughter were enveloped in Peter's comforting embrace.

Six years ago, when the Selectric had spat out that first message for Peter, neither him nor Olivia would have even dared to imagine what would lay ahead of them. Fighting for and saving the universe had always been the one thing they both had lived for. That all had changed the moment a little boy named Henry had entered their lives, just to be joined by another little boy called Noah only a mere six months later.

It hadn't been easy, saving the universe while being parents to two little boys. But they had learned to battle the challenges that fate had put in front of them, mastering each one that had came with a little more experience and wisdom than the one before. And with Ava joining their little family two years ago, life was complete now. It wasn't looking as bleak anymore as it had been when they had first met. For they both now truly knew that family was the most important in the world and that for their kids, for every single one of them, for Henry, Noah or Ava, they would fight to save this universe.


End file.
